A Captive Path
by MaySoFarAway
Summary: The world is swiftly being shaped in Voldemort's image, to the horror of those who have survived the Exterminations. Can there be a life for the good of heart, even in such times? Dark Fic, but with hope. COMPLETE. Luna and Theodore, Orla and Bast, etc.
1. Chapter 1

Well looky here, another Luna-centric fic! This one is actually loosely based on an RPG I was in for almost a year, where I played Luna. It was rather canon so one need not know of it to get the plot, for any important bits will be mentioned right in the story. It should be quite amusing to those who were in it, though. This one is dark. And not all smutty, but the first part is. Basically, this is what might happen to our characters, should things go wrong.

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Awake

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"I'll see when I fall asleep,

you invade all my dreams..."

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She struck a match in the cold darkness. A scraping, and spark, and the one bit of warmth Luna would have that day. With the extra long match and bit of flame, she lit fourteen candles in the basement, which sat all year round on the table by her bed. Each candle was different. One was blue in a polka-dot jar. Many were nearly burnt out lumps she'd dug out of the silver candlesticks in the dining room and sitting rooms. Another she'd made herself when she was twelve, tie-dyed. Luna had saved it for something special. Five years later, it was now her father's light.

"Hail Mary, full of grace," She whispered into the flickering shadows, the soft glow reflected in her pale, tired eyes. Beaten eyes, "Watch over my loved ones tonight, as they rest in the life beyond this," Luna's mother had been Catholic. Luna herself prayed to many. They all had to be up there somewhere, "Elgi, give Harry a Quidditch match tonight," The blue candle got that request, "Send him to Ginny in her dreams, she needs him…"

Her voice stopped short. Luna sucked in her bottom lip, as a floorboard creaked above her head. But none followed it. She let out her breath. Perhaps it was the cat prowling the kitchen. She did not know why she feared so much, they had seen her candles. They knew she was still foolishly hopeful. Or at least, they thought she was. Luna sighed, shutting her eyes and wishing she could feel tears. But she didn't feel tears. She didn't feel anything tightening in her throat or her chest. Luna didn't feel anything.

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It had been almost an entire year, since her father had been killed. Almost a year exactly that Harry had died in the fight against Voldemort. He hadn't gone down easily, of course. Hermione and Ron went with him, and The Dark Lord had taken weeks to recover. The Dark Lord…that was what they made her call Him now.

After the war was over, the Ministry was quickly taken over and laws were passed that allowed the extermination of those with tainted blood. The pure that had supported Harry and Dumbledore were killed, brainwashed, or slowly broken, depending on the situation and who found them. Luna and Ginny, being among the viable young female purebloods who'd been the boy's faithful friends, were unfortunately among the latter.

Aeneas Nott had been the one to perform the killing curse on Alexander Lovegood, after several rounds of Crucio. As such, he'd taken Luna in as household staff. She was treated lower than a house elf, berated and at times hexed for so reason at all. Once she seemed sufficiently broken, she'd likely be sold off as someone's breeding mare and get a few more galleons in the old man's pocket. At times Luna wondered if that was why she kept lighting the candles. They made her seem still alive.

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Pouring polish into a rag, she began shining all the candlesticks in the main dining room of Nott manor on the 14th of January. Luna's wand had been taken away a long time ago. He liked to see her working like a muggle. She shivered, standing in the frigid, echoing room in black robes and her tattered old school scarf. The master of the house wouldn't heat the room until just before his guest arrived. The Dark Lord liked the cold, and he liked Nott's company as well.

When she finished the rows of candlesticks, Luna hurried through the large hallways and secret doors, her breath a cloud in the blue-tinted finery around her. Slipping into the large kitchen, holding her numb hands in their fingerless school gloves over the warm oven. The house elves hardly noticed her anymore. Plenty of their kind were sharing their kitchens with one or two humans those days. Little had changed for them than that.

One especially old and wrinkled elf did look up though, from stirring her pot of onions and turnips. She reached a wizened hand out to the young human girl, pushing the long, lank ash-colored hair away from her eyes, "Oooo missus Luna, he did throw sparks in your eyes again?"

Luna absently touched under her bruised and slightly burned eyes, nodding, "I didn't clear out the ashes fast enough this morning Lotty, I am afraid," Her dreamy, drifty voice of old sounded odd to her. She hadn't spoken to anyone in four days, not since Lotty had asked her if the laundry was done. The elf named Lotty shook her head, touching just under Luna's eyes and seeming to wipe away the bruises and burns with the subtle magic of a House Elf.

"Can't be looking beat for that bad man, missus Luna," The old elf said stoutly, as Luna's eyes slowly widened. Certainly, Lotty would never say a bad word about her master, but she said plenty about Voldemort. Luna opened her mouth to thank her, but Lotty shook her head, "You gots time for a nap missus, before they makes you serve them dinner." Without a word or a change in facial expression, Luna turned and crept down the stairs to the cellar. She left the stubs of candles she'd found that day on her little table, by the candle that was Ernie's, and fell limply on the pile of blankets that was her bed.

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The sight of Voldemort no longer registered in Luna's mind as shocking. Aeneas was one of his most loyal servants, and as such The Dark Lord made it his business to keep things that way. Now the dark wizard sat in front of the fire with the Death Eater, as the two spoke of the muggle scouring going on in The United States. Nott's son Theodore was home that week from the very country, where he'd been over-seeing the removal of large groups of the people. He stood by the fire, idly watching as Luna drifted through the background of the scene, refilling glasses of wine and seeing that candles stayed lit.

"Goyle is looking for someone for his son," Voldemort noted in a rather bored tone, turning the wine in his glass, "I told him you had a mare you were breaking in, Aeneas."

"And still breaking," Aeneas sighed dramatically, turning his head just slightly toward where Luna stood stoically by the door, dressed in her plain robe and staring at her feet, her hair covering her face, "Girl, this vintage is not meant to be drunk ice cold," Luna simply nodded dumbly, almost tilting her head in anticipation of the hex that stung the side of her face. Voldemort glanced over at her, and for the first time Luna felt what it meant to have his scrutiny upon her.

"Come," He said simply, and Luna felt as if she had no will to say no to a voice that would have had her shaking on the spot not so long ago. She stepped toward the fire, standing between the two chairs. She glanced up only once, to see that Theodore Nott was still staring as if trying to burn a hole through her. Perhaps he wanted to.

Voldemort regarded her quietly, his pale, inhuman face unreadable and his eyes a pensive red glow, "Your House?" He asked, as if speaking to a book of information that could talk back. Luna stared at her feet,

"I was a Ravenclaw," She whispered. The Dark Lord nodded,

"And your career meeting said what?"

"That I would do well with a career in Transfiguration."

Voldemort looked back at Aeneas, touching his chin thoughtfully, "You know that I take the prospective family lines of my faithful followers to be my business, Nott. Goyle's family is producing nothing but cow-like dunces," He looked back at Luna, as if she were a high grade piece of meat, "This one might throw some balance into their inbred clan. She is slim, she has a functioning brain, and I knew her mother. Her father was an idiot of course, but you saw to his removal. I could persuade Goyle to pay you quite well for her." Luna shut her eyes tightly, 'Please no, please no oh please no…'

"I will certainly consider, my Lord," Aeneas dipped his head, "Though honestly, she has a bit of breaking left to do. Bit too stuck on memories, I believe."

"Is she?" Voldemort said interestedly, as if someone had just suggested a mildly amusing parlor game. He looked back at the girl, before grabbing her arm and pulling her closer. Luna gasped, looking frantically up at Theodore, as if he might somehow help her. Why would she think such a thing? Luna did not know. Perhaps because they'd gone to school together. Perhaps because, unlike the other two men in the room, she had never seen him kill someone in front of her. Regardless, she caught herself and shut her eyes, as she felt the dark wizard probing her mind.

"Ah!" Voldemort let out a short laugh, pushing her away, "There it is. Still pining after your schoolgirl love, are you?" He laughed again, "Children. Theodore, my boy! What was his name?"

"MacMillan," Theodore Nott mumbled, slowly running a hand through his blonde hair, his blue eyes fixed on Luna's shaking form, "Ernest MacMillan."

"Young Malfoy took him out in Ottery St. Catchpole, the night we procured her," Aeneas Nott smirked, "Children indeed," He flicked his hand, motioning her back to her spot by the door.

Luna forced herself to stay numb. She wouldn't think about Ernie. She never let herself think about Ernie, save when she lit her candles. But now The Dark Lord had wrenched him out to the forefront of her mind.

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That night, her hands shook as she lit her candles. Ernie's was in the jar from India with the lizard on it. She bit her lip hard, until she almost tasted blood. He was gone. Voldemort had brought him up to her mind and now it made her sick to think of him. Which just made her sick.

Luna curled up on her side on the pile of blankets, staring into the rows of tiny flames, each one a name, each name a memory of something that would never come back. Maybe that was why she was still there, she had even fooled herself into having hope. She hoped in those candles….

She froze, hearing footsteps again, from the same place she'd heard them last night. This time however, the sounds continued. Her fingers gripping the top quilt, knees drawn up to her chest under her faded white school nightgown, Luna listened as the footsteps grew closer. She didn't even lift her head as he came down the stairs, his footsteps slow and his posture slightly slouched. Maybe she was numb now. Maybe she was ready to just let herself roll over and be someone's rag-doll…

He leaned back against the wall, tilting his head forward and staring at her through his hair. It had gotten longer while he was in America, she noted dimly. Luna blinked slowly, once, before opening her mouth. She closed it again. He was just standing there, watching her, with eyes that used to make her highly uncomfortable at school. Luna was used to them now, they only made her curious. What odd mood was he in now?

There were always times of course, when he was home, that Theodore would watch her. He would stand behind her as she polished the candlesticks, never saying a word. He would stare at her over meals as if the food were ornamental. As if the paintings and books and tapestries filling the house weren't there, or interesting at all. But then he'd always been watching people when they were in school.

Now though, something was different in his eyes, which were flickering sharply blue in the light of those holy, foolish candles. Pushing off of the wall, he wandered forward, looming over her as he bent down to look into the candles. Luna shifted a bit to keep watching him, blinking in the dim light. Theodore was reaching out into one of the candles, flicking a finger through the flame. He turned his head swiftly, eyes catching hers again, "Who is this one?" He asked, speaking to her directly for the first time since they'd been in school.

"My mother's," She answered dully, tucking a bit of hair out of her eyes. Theodore watched her as she did, pulling his deft fingers out of the flames, and reaching out to run one along the side of her face, just barely grazing her skin with his fingernail. His fingers were still warm from the candles, hot against her icy skin in the cold of that dark basement. Luna pressed her eyelids shut tightly, trying to turn her head away. He held her in place without much effort. She thought of Ginny…this was not an uncommon solution to breaking in a former follower of Harry Potter…

"How is Su Li?" Luna heard herself ask, swallowing and shutting her eyes again, as he bent down, pressing his lips against the side of her neck. Li had been a Ravenclaw, a year ahead of her. She and Theodore had once been together, snogging in all corners of the Nott House at any given hour of the day, when the boy thought no one was around to witness him with what was presumably his one weakness. Luna hadn't seen her for some time though, since Theodore had been sent to the US.

"Married," Theodore murmured against her skin, while moving to lean on his elbow, his other hand at her hip, leaving her trapped. Not that she had the will to move away from him, "To some wealthy Chinese fellow of means, I hear," He went on in his quiet drone, moving his lips to her throat. Luna bit her lip, even as her head tilted back of its own free will. She couldn't help but recall the last time this had happened, a dim, sweet memory that she never, ever let herself dwell on. Christmas songs on the wireless…Catherine Macmillan's spice cookies…the smell of boy's bed sheets after they'd been cleaned and ironed for the holls…no. She forced her eyes open, fixing them on the shadowed beams of the ceiling. Luna wasn't there. Her body was, but she was going somewhere else, somewhere far away, as Theodore Nott ran his hand up her leg…

"No," He whispered harshly, pushing himself up enough to look her in the face. Luna sucked in her breath, shutting her eyes again, turning her head away. But he pulled it back, his forehead almost touching hers and his eyes boring into her own, "You'll be here for this," He whispered, firmly but not forcefully. It was…quite strange, Luna realized, meeting his gaze with her shaky, highly conflicted one, "Have I ever once hurt you, Lovegood?"

Luna opened her mouth to reply but…no sound came out. He never had, after all. She shook her head slowly just once, before Theodore Nott was kissing her. Pressing her against the quilts, he had her in a bruising, hungry kiss, pushing up her gown as he did, "Goyle wouldn't know the first thing to do with you," He murmured, while breaking away long enough to pull the faded, mended old garment up over her head and through her hair. Luna shivered in the sudden cold, but he was there, face against her throat again. She let out a small gasp of pleasure against her own will, even as he had her movement restricted. Yes, he was firm in his actions but…in no way brutal.

Theodore gave a wolfish smile at the sound, pulling away to look down at her form for a moment, before meeting her eyes again, that gaze that had once made her quicken her steps in the school halls now having an entirely different effect. It made Luna…feel something. And maybe it was entirely wrong. Maybe she was still just being broken for Aeneas' gain. But she was the one who reached up with shaking, spindly, under-fed hands, and unclasped the fastening of Theodore's robes, resting her fingers in the longish hair at the nape of his neck.

He made a pleased growl against her, kissing her again, his hands roving over her now prone form beneath him. Luna was suddenly aware of every nerve ending, of every sensation he was giving her. She felt. She could feel. It was almost like being awake again. He buried a hand in her long, ash-colored hair and wrapped the other under her thigh, breathing by her ear, "Well?"

Luna was entirely incapable of speech at that point, as her mind was exploding on a few too many levels. She just nodded, her breathing unsteady as Theodore bit down on her ear-lobe, entering her slowly, but persistently. She sucked in her breath, and his hand slipped around from her thigh to stroke her at the same time. He wanted her to stay there. This wasn't the way you broke someone.

Theodore moved against her and Luna almost despised herself for enjoying it as much as she did, for moving against him with such a needy speed. But it had been so long since she'd felt any sort of pleasure, any sort of warmth, and there he was. Insistent, firm and yet…affectionate? She wouldn't go that far. But he was certainly doing quite a bit for her. She let out a moan as the pace quickened toward its end, and those intense eyes in his face were practically triumphant. But when he came inside of her, those eyes shut and he let out a long breath, resting his chin against her now damp shoulder, shining a bit in the light of her candles, which were all still burning, and spilling wax on the table in spots.

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When he stood, pulling his robes back over his shoulders, Luna drew one of her quilts up to her chin, her head feeling dizzy. She fixed her eyes on the wall, trying to process what had just happened. Theodore moved away, his back to her until he reached the stairs, where he turned. Those unforgiving, beautiful eyes of his returned to her face, his breathing still ragged. Perhaps she should have been frightened of those eyes. But she wasn't. In fact, she felt herself turning faintly red under his scrutiny,

"You no longer have a choice in sides," He breathed quietly; "He is our absolute. But you…" He paused, as if he had to force himself to say the words to her, while not breaking eye contact, "You do not have to break for anyone," He stared at her for another long moment, before sweeping up the stairs without another word.

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The next morning dawned as usual, in a grey, persistent cloud over London in the misty light. Luna was up with the House Elves, fixing Aeneas Nott his late breakfast and then setting out to the West Wing to air out the rooms. Apparently, the man was planning on having a dinner party the following weekend, for those high ranking Death Eaters who were in town, in celebration of having overcome the last large American city.

Luna did not know what or how she was supposed to think that day, as she mopped the floors and opened dusty curtains. But instead of feeling her mind go numb with the work, her thoughts kept returning to the previous night, and at times she would have to pause, shutting her eyes. But she did not see Theodore in the house at all that day.

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However, at noon, as she polished the candlesticks that had seen use last night over Voldemort's dinner, footsteps sounded through the echoing dining hall. It was the heavy, clipped footfall of Aeneas Nott, and Luna turned expectantly, her hands clasped and her eyes fixed on the floor. He stopped very close to her, but it was some time before he actually spoke. Looking down at the marble floor, Luna could not see his face, but she could see the fists clenched at his sides. He was not happy about something, but this only caused her marginal alarm.

"You have been purchased," Aeneas said at last, in a very flat tone. Luna looked up in surprise. So soon? Her eyes went wide, and her hands began to shake, but…still, her Master (old Master?) did not look pleased at all, "And I got a fair price for you too, girl, make no mistake. But now I am the one who must explain to The Dark Lord that I cannot fulfill his request for my friend," He lifted his chin, staring down his nose at her. Luna knew why. He could no longer harm her, for she belonged to someone else now, and such was a crime. Oh, but he could have one last verbal sting, "You look like your father did, when you stare like that. Bug-eyed and waiting to be stepped on," He turned to go, "Get your things, the carriage will be waiting," But no good riddance. He would never quite be rid of her, after all.

Luna fled down the stairs to her basement, where Lotty was already laying out a simple set of new cream-colored traveling robes. They were nothing special…but far nicer than anything she owned. She left that room with the bag she had come with, an ancient carpet bag carrying a school scarf, gloves, a tattered copy of Wuthering Heights and scores of holy candles.

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She hadn't been outside in months. Stepping out into the overcast day, Luna took a deep breath of the air, almost able to pretend that it didn't smell of death and ghosts, that the calmness and silence of the pristine, tree-lined street did not leave her mourning. For the moment, she was free. She was away. She was almost alive again.

She ran a hand along the neck of one of the Thestrals, which were to pull the black carriage she recognized right away. A ghost of a smile crossed her lips, as she stepped inside, sitting down across from Theodore and clasping her hands in her lap. Theodore licked his lips, glancing out one of the windows before looking at her. Luna glanced up to meet him, feeling her pulse quicken again. His eyes were indeed, always and ever quite beautifully unsettling.

"Have you ever been to America?" He asked quietly, in a rather conversational tone.

"Yes, many times," She replied softly, "I am sure it is quite changed, though."

"That it is," Theodore yawned, running a hand through his hair. He looked at her closely then, tilting his head, "You put your hair up."

"The collar of the dress is high," She informed him, in a tone that was very close to how her voice had been at school, distantly dreamy yet still, Ravenclaw know-it-all. Theodore blinked slowly, before leaning forward, reaching out and pulling out the two combs that were holding her hair up. The ashy, filmy and very long tresses came down around her shoulders, down to her elbows. He ran his hand through Luna's hair once, letting the strands slide through his fingers slowly, before sitting back in his seat.

Luna sat back in hers, gazing idly out across the quiet streets as the carriage started moving, taking them to Diagon Alley, where they would be spirited away, to yet another land that was going through extermination. Something that could not be stopped or slowed. But even in this world, she had a choice. They both did.

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**Authors Notes: **Review? Maybe? Yes, no? Bueller? More to come, witches. 


	2. Strangelove

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Strange Love

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Can you look out the window,  
Without your shadow getting in the way?

Oh you're so beautiful,  
with an edge and a charm  
But so careful  
When I'm in your arms…

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Rabastan Lestrange was still adjusting to the shift in tides, even after a year of Voldemort's reign. At times it felt as if he should still be on the run, hiding in deserted cabins and stalking potential victims for The Dark Lord's purposes. Instead he was living in one of the grandest houses in the warded Salem quarter in America, one of those over-seeing the eradication of the muggles. It had been difficult work at first, and work that had to be done quickly, after word spread of what had happened in England. The first few days had been tireless work, murdering their leaders and rendering their armies helpless and warded. But afterwards, it had only been a matter of cleaning up…months upon months of cleaning, which still went on. And for their tireless work, the Death Eaters had been richly rewarded in their spoils…Bast perhaps most of all.

True, he'd always enjoyed things that sparkled. He and his older brother had been surrounded by shiny things all of their lives, after all. Rodolphus had married himself something dark and wild, who dragged all three of them into Azkaban after her. She had always said they would have their nice things back ten-fold, and Bast had been only slightly inclined to believe her. But then, here he was.

It still amazed him that he'd found Orla before the Death Squads in Brittan had. In fact, as soon as things were somewhat in control in the States, Rabastan had raced back for her, storming through the streets under the perpetual green glow that settled over London for at least a month. He'd found his little half-blood hidden away in the attic of her house, clutching her younger brother, staring up at him defiantly as she did. She did not recognize him, of course. She'd believed that it was only a schoolboy who sent her secret notes in school. Not a grown Death Eater of thirty-five.

Imagine her shock then, when they were not killed…when he slipped a black cloak over her shoulders, hiding her face under its hood. Orla Quirke looked on in half-awake shock, as Rabastan Lestrange passed her off with the Ministry as a pureblood with a squib sibling, from a poorer class. No one seemed to notice his lie. Only then, after saving her from death or enslavement, did he tell her who he was.

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It was early February, and Orla Lestrange was restless. Sure, it was easy to pretend that people weren't being killed daily, when one spent all of their time indoors. It was easy to think that her friends were simply busy, instead of…well; most of them were probably dead by then. But Orla had no proof, and thus she could stay in her bubble of denial. Still, it would have been nice to go outside.

But this was why she had her indoor garden, in the middle of the house under a glassed in courtyard. She spent an awful lot of time there in the winter, sometimes with her brother Quentin, but most of the time on her own, reading. This day, she was sitting on her bench by the fountain, her journal set on top of the growing lump in her lap that was incubating another little human being. She remembered when almost all of her friends had the same journals, linked and charmed for communication. Now the pages were silent, mostly, an ear for her thoughts.

Today she was feeling somewhat amusing in her script. She began writing a long rant about the discomfort of the proper, old-fashioned dresses and robes pureblood women were wearing those days. Oh sure, she'd liked them at first, they were flowy and fancy and made her feel like she was living in a storybook. While pregnant, however? They were a royal bloody nightmare, and Orla went about in something long and flowy as often as she could…and barefoot. Her feet were quite pained by all forms of shoes in her current state.

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Rabastan had once hated himself for feeling compassion for her. She had been a schoolgirl of thirteen when he'd started writing to her, anonymously. Even then she'd had an impressive wit to rival many of his peers. The first time he'd seen a picture of her face, he'd felt an odd stirring that frightened even his rather twisted mind. He found himself sending her paintings, sweets; all the while insisting to whomever knew that it was all just a manipulative amusement, including himself.

Now he watched her from one of the courtyard entrances, scribbling in her journal as the noon sunshine drifted in through the glass above her head, lighting her long, light brown hair. She hadn't cut that hair in three years, Bast realized, eyes lingering on her figure for a moment before he slipped silently toward her. Standing behind her, he rested his hands on her shoulders, enjoying the fact that she looked up slowly, resting her head again his chest,

"Greetings," She yawned, setting her book aside.

"Greetings," Bast replied quietly, playing with a few waves in her hair, "How are you feeling, love?"

"Large," Orla said flatly, before giggling, "Awfully large, and awfully sore."

"So sorry to hear that," Her Death Eater husband said smoothly, starting to braid a bit of her hair idly, "Bit over-due now, aren't we?"

"Yep," She nodded, poking her stomach lightly, "Somebody's getting a bit too comfortable. I'm beginning to think she's started decorating in there, in fact. At least, I feel like I have curtains and a desk inside of here."

Rabastan smirked. Honestly, what would he do without her bubbling voice after a long morning? He came around the bench and sat beside her, brushing the hair back from her brow softly, "I have to return to London for a few weeks tomorrow," He informed her, resting his hand on her stomach, "And as much as I'm sure your young brother would be of help to you," He inwardly cringed. The boy was a risk to keep, but of all the things he'd given her, all she had ever asked for was that he keep her brother safe, "I would feel more at ease, had you someone here…"

Orla bit her lip, hoping to Merlin, God and Elvis that he didn't mean Bellatrix. Bellatrix Lestrange, her delightful sister in law. The woman scared Orla out of her mind, and she still didn't trust Bast or the papers that said Orla was of pure lineage. But then, if The Dark Lord was calling him to London, he'd likely be calling Bellatrix too. The older woman didn't seem to like domestic things very much, "…oh?"

"Yes," Bast replied, looking her in the eyes, "We're having company tonight…an old school friend of yours."

"Really?" Orla's eyes brightened. Heck, it could be Pansy for all she cared; at least she'd be her age, somewhat. Rabastan just smiled, standing.

"I will see you tonight," He assured her, bending down to kiss her lightly.

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Luna had been in Boston for three weeks, before Theodore had informed her that they were relocating to Salem. She'd been told that Death Eaters were being moved about often those days, due to their still relatively small number. But Theodore implied that Salem would be a more permanent residence, despite his having to return to London for a short time. So she went, leaving their rather fine flat in Boston for another large, cold house.

Their things were moved into the house on a cold February morning, as Theodore put up wards around the old Colonial, so that the Witch's Quarter extended to include the place. With slightly trembling hands, Luna went through every room, removing photographs of the muggle family that had lived there before. She took down personal items, spiriting them away to the empty attic with her new wand. The photographs she tucked into her bureau. It seemed wrong not to.

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"We're going out tonight?" Luna asked a few evenings later, standing in front of her armoire. The subject had been rather up in the air all day…as many things were with Theodore Nott. She had quickly gotten used to the fact that he did not let on much.

"Yes," Theodore replied, entering their room and pulling out his dress robes, "Rabastan Lestrange has asked a favor of you,"

Luna pressed her lips together, looking back at the various dress robes that had been fitted to her in Boston. At least she knew it would be nothing repulsive, as Antonin Dolohov had asked a 'favor' as well. Luckily for her, Theodore did not like sharing his things. She did wish though that she did not have to endure another night surrounded by Voldemort's most trusted. Also, she had been feeling rather ill as of late. Plus…well, it was her last night before he left her for a few weeks…

"We'll be home early," He startled her by saying, standing directly behind her. He was silent, and he seemed to read her mind. Rightly, she should be terrified. Instead, Luna shut her eyes, tilting her head back as he kissed her temple.

"Right then," Luna said softly, pulling out her dark maroon dress and robe.

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"Mr. and Mrs. Nott," Bast greeted quietly, when the two arrived at his home. The sound of talking and music drifted down the hall, as a House Elf took Luna's black cape, dusting off the snow. Rabastan and Theodore regarded each other coolly as they shook hands, and Theodore gave the older man a hard stare when he formally took Luna's hand in greeting. Luna caught sight of another slight figure over Rabastan's shoulder, "Do say hullo to my wife, Mrs. Nott," Bast told her, turning to go. Theodore gave Luna a long glance, his face stoic but his eyes flashing at her slightly, before he followed.

It took a moment to register in Luna's mind, as she stood in Rabastan Lestrange's entryway. The two men moved on, and Luna took a tentative step toward the younger girl standing in front of her. Her hair was longer, and she was a bit taller now, not to mention she looked ready to pop. But there was no mistaking Orla Quirke.

"Luna!" She squealed, pulling the older girl into a hug. Luna blinked, hugging her back numbly for a moment. Then she drew back, looking her straight in the eye,

"Orla?" She breathed. This wasn't right, all of her friends were gone, all of them were…well no, not all of them were, "You? Him…?"

"Journal boy!" Orla squeaked back. Luna shook her head,

"That was…?"

"Yes!" Orla glanced back the way the men had gone, her own eyes going wide, "You and…?"

"Yes!" Luna nodded, feeling like she was going to fall over. Orla blinked,

"Has he….are you okay!" She cried. Luna nodded furiously,

"…are YOU okay!" Orla nodded back, in much the same manner. The girls paused, looking at each other. And then they were hugging again, tightly, as if afraid the other would suddenly disappear. Luna felt tears building up in her chest, as she clutched her old Housemate,

"I thought for sure you had been killed," Luna pulled back again, this time gasping, eyes wide, "Orla," She whispered, looking around wildly, "But you're muggle-born, how…?"

"He drew up papers," Orla replied, in the same tiny whisper, "That I was pure and Quentin was a squib. Nobody asked twice. Well, almost nobody…" But few people listened to her sister in law's rantings those days. Speaking of which, "We should go in," Orla said aloud, smoothing her long black robes over her swollen mid-section. Luna nodded, pushing her hair back over her shoulders.

"When are you due?" She asked as they walked down the hall, in the voice she had practiced for these sorts of situations. Orla caught on, speaking the same way. She never had quite gotten the hang of it, she was glad Luna was there to help.

"Three days ago," The sixteen year old smirked, taking a deep breath before they entered the parlour, "Here we go," She whispered…

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Without another word, Luna and Orla slipped into the room, the elder finding her way to sit by Theodore in the corner, and Orla sitting in the comfortable chair near Rabastan. The scent of the drinks made Luna slightly ill, as she'd felt that morning, and she dipped her head a bit to avoid it. From across the room though, she heard someone laugh above the conversation, and lifted her head.

"I almost didn't believe it, but there you are," Draco Malfoy laughed, nodding at Theodore, "Good show Nott, you got yourself Loony! Tell me, has she started collecting garden gnomes yet, or did you…work that out of her system?"

"Oh honestly," Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes from the opposite corner, where she sat with Daphne Greengrass, "Will you ever learn to stop using such vulgarities in these settings, Draco?"

"Nope," Draco smirked, leaning back in his chair. Luna was trying to place the girl that was sitting beside him (as a means of ignoring the fact that the last time she saw him, he was torturing her old boyfriend to death), but she couldn't quite. Perhaps she'd gone to another school, "Come now Pansy, this is hysterical!"

"You'll note that I'm not laughing," Theodore said coolly, looking Draco in the eye. The other boy's smile faltered slightly, before he looked away, shrugging. From another part of the room, one of the senior guests laughed lightly,

"Having the younger set present does add something to these events," noted Jugson, a Death Eater Luna did not know. Between him and Rodolphus on the lounge, Bellatrix Lestrange scoffed, the lines on her forehead apparent with her scowl,

"Honestly," She shook her head, glancing between her brother in law and Theodore Nott, "Aren't you both a bit old to be playing with dolls?" Her eyes settled on Luna, narrowing, "I could snap that one in two."

Luna glanced over at Orla, who was carefully trying to make herself small in her chair, her hands wrapped protectively around her stomach. Orla wasn't used to this, Luna realized. She had to have been with Rabastan from the start, to be so far along. He had probably kept her carefully put away, with as little contact with other Death Eaters as possible. Luna however had spent a year listening to Voldemort hiss in Aeneas Nott's ear, thus she was almost unfazed by someone like Bellatrix.

"But you will not, thank you," Theodore replied in a calm, yet respectful voice. Bellatrix raised an eyebrow, and after a moment, she nodded.

"Well at least you know what's yours," She allowed, "Still. I am not sure how wise this is."

"Ah, here we go again," Rodolphus looked at his brother with a wide smile, shaking his head, "Ready yourself for the scripted rant…"

"I am serious, Rodolphus!" Bellatrix snapped, as the whole room's attention fixed on her, "These pureblooded children, who once opposed us, now getting pawned off? Is that any good for the blood lines?"

"They are pure though," Rabastan reminded her, with an exaggerated sigh that said he'd had this conversation before. Bellatrix shook her head,

"It was still in them to rebel!" She insisted, fixing her eyes on Orla, "How do you know she won't provide you with spawn that rebels, Rabastan?"

"Because she is mine," Rabastan said evenly, not batting an eyelash. He reached over, petting Orla's hair lightly in what might be seen as a patronizing manner, though the look he gave her was significant, and just between the two of them, "And just because she is not eager to go out and kill people, does not mean she was a rebel. Young Miss Parkinson hasn't the disposition to killing, now does she?"

"Goodness, no," Pansy shook her head, "Too messy," She raised her glass of wine to Bellatrix, dipping her head a bit, "But cheers to you Mrs. Lestrange, you certainly have my respect."

"There, you see?" Rabastan said lightly, and Orla managed a very believable, easy smile at her sister in law. Bellatrix sat back, sighing,

"As you say," She noted flippantly, fixing her eyes on Luna again, "Our Lord has passed the laws supporting it, of course, so far be it from me to argue his wisdom," She sipped her wine slowly, "Still," She looked at Luna closely, "Do not be swayed by pretty things, young Nott. Such was your father's folly more than once. Sometimes, trophies bite."

"Oh, I certainly hope they do," Theodore replied with complete seriousness, before giving that famous, unsettling smirk of his through ever growing hair, making a show of resting his hand on Luna's shoulder, running a finger along her jaw. Luna had the good sense to smirk as well. Funny, how quickly she'd trained herself to go into 'around-scary-people-mode' so easily. In his corner, Draco Malfoy choked on his vodka. Bellatrix just sniffed.

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"So you have agreed?" Theodore was asking later that night, as Luna tucked away their dress clothes, hers in her armoire and Theodore's in his suitcase. She nodded, walking back across the thick, soft carpet to sit on the edge of their bed, brushing out her hair,

"I will stay with Orla until you both return, yes," She said quietly, setting her brush aside when she was done, her hair falling all around her. Slipping off her white robe, she set it on the chair beside the bed, before untying the bed curtains and drawing them closed, "Assist her with the child when it comes," Luna bit her lip, running her fingers over the wine-colored, translucent fabric. She did so like their bed, "She is awfully young to be having one…"

"Indeed," Theodore said quietly, leaning back against the pillows. Luna turned, slipping under the bed covers and moving to his side, lying down and resting her head on his chest. He in turn ran a hand through her hair, using his other hand to pick up his wand and nox the lights. Luna shut her eyes,

"How long will you be gone?" She asked in a whisper in the darkness, her breath moving over his skin.

"Two weeks at most," He murmured back, running his hand up and down her spine through her nightgown. Luna was quiet for a while. She thought of Orla, so small and so suddenly round, ready to give birth to a Death Eater's baby. And looking at Rabastan with such an admiration…

"I realized something this evening," Luna said quietly, after a few moments, during which Theodore had been enjoying the scent of her hair. When he said nothing, Luna went on, her voice shaking just slightly, "I am with child as well,"

Again, he was silent at first. Luna bit her lip, as the hand on her back stopped moving. But then, she felt a kiss being pressed to the top of her head. She let out the breath she was holding, shutting her eyes…

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The following morning dawned foggy and grey through the naked trees, and over the pocked and slushy snow. Orla stood on tip-toe outside of her house, kissing Rabastan goodbye as he held her heart-shaped face in his hands. Walking towards them, Theodore paused, turning and looking down at Luna, who lifted her chin to look back at him.

Odd, how two girls who'd once been fiercely independent now found themselves forced to depend on two murderers. Odd, that they hadn't once complained. Theodore reached around, gripping the back of her hair and staring into her eyes for a few moments, before kissing her once, one of those long, fierce snogs he was so fond of giving her, that made the back of her knees give out just slightly. And then he was gone.

Luna took a deep breath of the icy air, turning and making her way to Orla's side. The younger and considerably more pregnant Ravenclaw was still staring at the spot her husband had apparated away from, shivering in her warm robe. Luna touched her arm, and she looked up,

"He's never left me alone before," Orla said by way of explanation. Luna blinked once,

"And he still hasn't?" She smiled a little, tugging her toward the door, "Come along, Lady Lestrange, we have chocolate to consume…"

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**Author's Notes: **Ah, so you think things are murderously calm, do you? Next installment: We see where the resistance is at! The plot thickens! Cats and dogs rain from the heavens! Read & Review!  



	3. Nights Of Light

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Nights of Light

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One minute you're waiting for the sky to fall  
the next you're dazzled by the beauty of it all  
Lovers in a Dangerous Time

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Hestia Jones was still keenly aware of the fact that there had to be someone watching over her. After eight months of living in Deception, just miles from an Extermination camp, she and her family and friends went on, undiscovered. True, Bill and Sturgis were quite good with their hexes and wardings. And true again, that their area had already been searched by Death Eaters before the remains of The Order of The Phoenix relocated there. Still, such was a miracle.

The morning that Luna was bidding farewell to Theodore, Hestia was standing in her small kitchen hundreds of miles away, watching as Bill Weasley and Sturgis Podmore piled firewood into their respective wheelbarrows and set off in opposite directions: Bill to the house just down the snow-covered street, and Sturgis to Hestia's front door.

She stepped outside just as Sturgis finished stacking the fuel by the door, holding out a mug of coffee for him. He smiled up at her, taking the offered beverage as he kicked the snow off of his boots, stepping inside around her and pealing off his gloves, "You're up early," He noted, taking a long sip and then holding his hands over the woodstove. Hestia let out a small laugh,

"Yes, and you can thank YOUR son for that," She retorted, fixing the displaced throw rug that lie on the cold hardwood floor, "Megan offered to rock him back to sleep though,"

"And you never could fall asleep in the mornings," Sturgis murmured back, kissing her lightly. Hestia smiled softly to herself, as he moved to add more fire to the woodstove. Glancing out the window of the cabin again, she sighed,

"How's Bill?" She asked quietly.

"Better," Sturgis said easily, though a look of concern crossed his face. It was not missed by his wife, who tilted her head, pushing back her dark hair. With only a raise of her eyebrow, she prompted him on, "He still wants to go looking for her, Hes."

"We've looked!" Hestia sighed, moving to the kitchen table and sitting down, "We've checked their records! Ginny isn't there, she's nowhere…"

"We checked old records," Sturgis corrected her gently, sitting down across the table from her and stretching his legs out in front of the stove, "He is thinking…" He went on slowly, "That the Camp would have the updated records. They update those all the time."

Hestia looked at him, mouth agape, blinking a few times. She shook her head, finally, "No, he can't be seriously thinking…"

"His wife and baby are dead, Hestia," Sturgis reminded her softly, "His entire family is on the Exterminated list, except for Ginny…"

"I know!" Hestia snapped rather loudly. She sighed, shutting her eyes for a moment, "But Sturgis that only means they hadn't found her yet, as of two months ago. And he wants to risk getting caught, when there are so few of us left anyway, just to find out if she's been killed yet?"

"He…doesn't think they killed her," Sturgis replied slowly. He looked up at his wife seriously, "Hes, you know what they've done with the girls…"…What had almost happened to Megan and Sally-Ann…

"Of course I do," Hestia bit her lip. True, Bill might just look up records to find that his sister was alive and well and some Pureblood's wife. She sighed, "What is he planning?"

"He wants to go off alone, within the next few days," Sturgis replied. Hestia gave him a sharp look.

"You're NOT going with him," She said pointedly.

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Deception Bay was a perfect middle of nowhere. Death Eaters had swept through within a day, finding almost no one as they did. A few short months later, after being on the run underground for weeks, the remains of the Order and those they had managed to save had settled there, in one of the tiny ghost villages.

Between them all, they only filled two houses. Bill Weasley had taken a house by the lake, along with Selune Sinistra, who'd survived the invasion on Hogwarts by the skin of her teeth. She watched over her two Gryffindors, first year muggle-born girls that she'd managed to smuggle out of the school when she'd escaped. Kevin Entwhistle and Celia Moon were also in her care, but neither was quite right in the head. Selune had found Kevin wandering the streets of London, after surviving three rounds of Crucio. Bill had rescued Celia from a Death Eater's kitchen, having been looking for Ginny.

And across the way, Hestia and Sturgis had their own brood to worry about. They too, had been fighting during the invasion on Hogwarts, which had only been a few weeks after they'd gotten married. Many, many of their peers had died in the school that night…Minerva right in Hestia's arms. Tonks had been taken out while her back was turned, and while she was pregnant. Hestia and Sturgis had gotten away though, having been able to save two of the Hufflepuff boys, Justin and Zacharias. Hestia's own daughter Megan though…she had gone missing.

They searched everywhere for her, and others of the boy's friends whose bodies had not been found at the school. Sally-Ann they discovered bound in a carriage in Knockturn Alley. She had told them that Megan was being taken to America, and Hestia snatched her daughter back just before she was spirited off to Antonin Dolohov. And then the couple had searched England for weeks, trying to find more of the kids' peers, at their pleading, but none could be found alive or able to rescue. Adele Runcor was killed in her home, Hannah Abbott was sold. The trail for Wayne went cold, and Ernie was found dead along with Alexander Lovegood, in Luna Lovegood's home. Megan had insisted that they find Luna, but by then she was locked away in Nott manor.

It quickly became too dangerous to stay in England, and so they were in Deception. Thus, the four teenagers…nearly adults…lived with Sturgis and Hestia still. Despite the highly inconvenient circumstances, Hestia and Sturgis had a baby the following December, a boy they named Charlie. It would have been Bill's son's name.

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"Your turn," Megan Jones yawned, thumping down the stairs and into the kitchen, passing her baby brother on to her mother, "He should stay asleep!"

Hestia looked down at her son, smirking, "Oh I'm sure, especially after you stomped down those stairs like an elephant,"

"I am a delicate flower!" Megan retorted, which caused her step-father to nearly snort his coffee. Charlie started crying again, and the domestic scene was complete.

"Way to go," Zach noted, following his girlfriend down the stairs, "You woke it up,"

"It's a he, thank you," Hestia corrected, resting Charlie on her shoulder and bouncing him a bit. Zach grinned, turning on the muggle toaster with a flip of his wand,

"Yes mam," He replied, poking Meg's side as he looked out the window, "We've got company," He said idly, "Sinistra is bringing Celia over,"

"You know, you can call her Selune," Sturgis reminded him. Zach shook his head, as did Megan,

"She's still a Professor Dad," She explained, quite matter-of-factly, eyebrows raised, "That fact shall never change in our brains."

The front door opened and Selune stepped inside, Celia following her silently. The former Slytherin never spoke, though she watched everyone, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Now she sat in the chair at the table furthest away from anyone, as Selune hugged Hestia,

"So sorry, but we're out of milk again," The redheaded former Astronomy Professor explained, and Hestia waved it off,

"No worries, eat with us," She said easily, and Selune opened their muggle icebox. Such was a regular occurrence, seeing that most of their supplies were in that house. She began mixing the dried milk, glancing over at the non-responsive Celia as she did,

"I swear, this girl has so inclination to take care of herself," Selune murmured, and Hestia nodded. Megan just looked at her toast, biting her lip,

"Would you?" She set forth the question into the abyss. No one answered, of course, though Zach wrapped an arm around her waist. More loud footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of Justin, who sat right down at the table, yawning, and Sally, who gave Hestia a kiss on the cheek good morning and set about making her own toast.

It would be hard for one to believe that the jovial young people had all lived through the worst trauma their world had ever seen. That is, until Justin leaned over, looking at Celia, "…Good morning, Celia…" He said quietly. Hestia and Sturgis shared a look, as the silent girl looked up. Justin had always been the only one who could make the former Slytherin girl react to speech. But Celia still just glanced at him once, before turning her head and staring out the window again, her eyes vacant and dark.

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That night, the door of the house by the lake slammed open and shut in the calm darkness, as another snowfall began. A tall figure trudged through the snow, his head bent against the wind, the hair that he hadn't cut in months blowing out behind him. Of course, the lack of trimming was no longer intentional. Bill Weasley just didn't care. He pulled his scarf up over his chin, his boots leaving deep footprints in the snow as he left the village, heading toward the woods. It took him a while in the darkness, to realize that someone was leaning against one of the pines, waiting for him.

"I'm going with you," Hestia sighed. Bill stopped short, blinking,

"I didn't want anyone to go with me," He replied gruffly, pulling out his wand for some light as he pushed forward into the woods. Seeing as how the ground in those parts was so heavily warded, apparrating anywhere was fairly impossible, "And you're crazy, Hestia. You should have sent Sturgis, if you were intent on butting in."

"Oh yes, send all two of the grown men we poor defenseless womenfolk have at our disposal, that's wise," Hestia snapped back, following him. Bill shook his head,

"Zacharias, Kevin and Justin are grown men," He mumbled. Hestia laughed,

"Ah right, how could I forget?" She replied, "That makes the risk of the two of you getting yourselves killed far easier on my mind, thank you Bill."

Bill just mumbled in reply. The two of them pressed on, toward the last Extermination Camp still in operation in Canada.

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**Author's Notes: **Short, yes. The next chapter will be a bit longer, and very plotful. And the one after that, we shall return to Luna. Reviews feed my madness! And we all know that madness is where genius lies. Thus, Reviews More Story, hehe 


	4. Nowhere Land

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Nowhere Land

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He's a real Nowhere Man,

Sitting in his Nowhere Land…

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Wayne Hopkins had once been known as the person who could always make one smile. The Hufflepuff had been the most innocent being most of his friends knew, a gentle soul who looked after flowers and went stargazing and hated to see a friend in pain. It had been a heavy blow to all of his surviving friends then, when he'd been presumed killed. But he hadn't been.

Despite their supremacy, it was no secret that Voldemort's most trusted servants were of a small number. Thus, he'd arranged a rather brilliant system for eradication. Only one Death Eater, or new Loyalist, as those who'd joined his side after the war were called, need be at any Extermination Camp. For at the individual's dispense were at least 50 half blooded or muggle-born witches and wizards, most under a simple, collective imperius, who could perform the killings of muggles. It was in such a situation that Wayne Hopkins found himself, five miles outside of Deception Bay.

Upon leaving his cell in the mornings, he had no recollection of how he spent his days. He awoke, he ate, he left his cell, and then hours of nothingness. He returned, and spent his evenings staring out of the small window by his small bed, or studying his hands. Wayne knew what went on in the Camp, but he did not know what exactly it was that he did. But his hands were always covered in ink. Stephen Cornfoot, who lived in the cell next to him, suggested that he probably took down the records of who they were killing. It did not settle Wayne's mind very much.

"Can you see them tonight?" A voice asked from the other side of Wayne's wall on the night of February 8th. The boy turned in his ten-foot square of living-space, sitting down on his cot and looking out the window,

"Yes I can," Wayne replied clearly, his face lit by the Northern Lights as they slipped across the sky, "They are brilliant and bright tonight. Something good will come of it!"

"You say that every night," Stephen replied, smirking in his cell, though his voice was not sarcastic. It was Wayne who kept the other boy sane, after all. They might not be aware of what deeds they'd done, and as such, they had not felt broken. But the fact still remained that their time conscious was spent within four small walls, with their fates looming over their heads. What was to become of them, when all of this was done? When one by one, the cells around them went silent, as their times under bewitchment became shorter. But again, this was why Stephen Cornfoot, former Ravenclaw and former political nerd, thanked Merlin every day that he roomed next to Wayne Hopkins.

Soft tink-tink sorts of sound reached his ears after a moment of listening to Wayne describe the sky, like metal upon metal. Stephen swallowed, "Is that Heathcliff?"

"Yes," Wayne replied brightly, picking up the animated biscuit tin from the floor. The dog-like tin had been the only being Wayne had been able to rescue, before he was snatched away from Hogwarts. Heathcliff, the living biscuit tin that had been his best friend Luna's pet. Oh Luna, how she lingered on his mind…on both of their minds, "I think that he is enjoying the colors as well."

"I'm sure he is," Stephen said softly. The other boy had a hard time of it, spending all of his conscious time in darkness and with no reassuring marks on his hands. He was the one who was aware that the cells surrounding them had slowly gone quiet, one by one. Until he was quite sure that they were the only ones left…and that it was only a matter of time.

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The wards surrounding a Camp so far from civilization were created for the sole purpose of keeping muggles in, not stopping Wizards from entering. Still, Bill Weasley anticipated the spells that would have alerted them to the Death Eater in command of the place, and set forth a counter-jinx outside of the simple complex of small buildings. They were not there for a fight, they only wanted information.

Slipping under the wards, Hestia and Bill walked silently between the dark, square grey buildings, Hestia glancing inside a few as she passed small windows. Inside were makeshift cells, where they no doubt kept the servants. All of those on that side of the building were empty, and Hestia felt her stomach drop slightly.

"They're all empty," She whispered softly to Bill, who nodded, moving on through the snow,

"Almost all of the muggles and muggle-borns are gone by now," He replied in the same whisper, his eyes scanning the snow, darkness and heavenly lights for movement, "The DE's won't need as many servants. So they've likely…moved them to other camps." Or killed them, which was the more likely answer.

They approached a central building that looked remarkably like an ordinary house one would see in London, and after glancing within a few windows, it was clear that this was what they were looking for. Glancing about again, and again seeing nobody, Bill carefully set about removing the hexes on the door. They entered silently, walking down a hall and then into what seemed from outside to be the den. Hestia scanning the room and its rows of bookshelves, potion ingredients and old paintings once, before approaching the desk, "Keep watch," She hissed, and Bill moved to do so, standing by the door.

Opening one of the larger drawers, Hestia started scanning the rolls of parchment it contained. All of them were marked with "Muggle Exterminations", in blue ink. After deducting that all of them were muggle lists, Hestia sighed, shutting it and opening another. These rolls too were marked the same, and not what she needed. Huffing, she moved to close this drawer too, before pausing, with a frown forming on her face.

Glancing at Bill, who seemed at ease, Hestia opened the bag she'd brought with her, rummaging through its contents. It was the one she had not used in months, not since she and Sturgis had been trying to track down more children before they were sold or destroyed. She found what she was looking for in the form of a journal, which she flipped through quickly, studying the handwriting and comparing it to the parchment in her hand.

"Bill!" She gasped, and he spun around to look at her as she held aloft a dark gold-colored journal and a sealed roll of parchment, "It's Wayne. Megan's friend Wayne, he's their bookkeeper!" She whispered harshly, looking at him closely, "Bill…"

The tall man hesitated for only a moment, glancing down the hall and then back at the records. Hestia looked at him sharply, "I'll keep looking for her, Bill."

"…Right," He turned and left the room, exiting the house and making his way toward the large building they'd passed upon entering. Hestia dove back into the drawers with renewed vigor, a bit of hope now stirred in her heart. Finally, she found what she was looking for, and a considerably smaller stack of parchment it was. She scanned the W's of the later 'Exterminated' lists doggedly, and found not a single Weasley.

Hestia opened the smallest drawer then, where most of the rolls were older, and some were not in Wayne's handwriting. These were the lists that every camp had copies of. They were the lists of the Pure who'd been sold, married off, or who'd sworn Loyalty to the Dark Lord instead of facing death. Hestia scanned the lists closely, reading the names to herself aloud. These were definitely updated. New names were there, like Morag MacDougal, and Luna Lovegood…no, not Lovegood. Hestia paused, feeling a bit sick. Aeneas Nott had sold her off to his own son. She breathed a heavy sigh, before shaking her head and reading on.

But Ginny wasn't listed. She was not listed anywhere! Hestia even went back over the updated Exterminations, and found nothing. She went to the old lists, where Molly, Arthur, and the rest of Bill's family were listed, but no one had been added. Hestia sat back on the thick, dark green carpet, burying her hand in her hair. Ginny Weasley had fallen off the face of the Earth, as far as any of them seemed to know.

"Finding my records…illuminating, Miss. Jones?" An all-too familiar voice reached her ears, and for a moment Hestia's heart stopped, "Oh, I'm sorry. Mrs. Podmore now, isn't it?"

"It was never MISS Jones to begin with, Severus," Hestia said back coolly, looking up. Severus Snape had his wand trained on her, and Hestia was holding hers under her robe, not breaking eye contact with the man she'd once sat through Order meetings with. The man who'd survived, while countless Order members died at the hands of his peers.

"My apologies," He replied, moving toward the desk. Hestia shut her eyes tightly as he passed, working to keep the rage swelling in her at bay. Oh how she wanted to kill him, right then and there, with his back turned. But…she thought of Megan, and Sturgis…and Charlie. She refrained.

"Don't draw this out," Hestia said slowly, gripping her wand tighter, "I did not come here to harm anyone, I only wanted…"

"I could have you killed, you know," Snape said airily, and Hestia sucked in her breath, knowing that eventually, she would have to get violent, as much as she was risking.

"I know Severus, but…"

"NO!" Snape spun around, glowering down at her, his eyes flashing. Hestia drew her wand quickly…before realizing that Snape had lowered his, "I could have had you killed MONTHS ago!" He hissed, and Hestia just stared at him, the look on her face incredulous. Why, they'd been hidden for nearly a year…

"What are you saying?" Hestia asked in a low tone, slowly standing up without breaking eye-contact with the man she had loathed more than any other for so long. Snape gave a mirthless smirk, glaring at her,

"How do you think you have stayed hidden and undiscovered for so long, Hestia?" He spoke, his voice once again low and dangerous, "Who do you think redirected hunting parties? Who do you think convinced Our Lord that this area was far too bleak, far too removed to be a settlement?"

Hestia felt truly numb. She looked back at the desk, at the open drawers filled with names. Men, women and children, all killed under this man's watch. She swallowed, looking back up at him.

"Have you ANY of my parchments?" He asked her, in his old arrogant, accusing tone. Hestia shook her head, picking up her bag. Snape sneered, "Good," He stated, indicating the door, "Now I suggest you leave, and do not return. For if you do, my benevolence is likely to end."

Hestia felt that smart somewhere in her stomach. She was beholden to Severus Snape, of all of the lowly creatures on the planet. And yet…she swallowed the bile in the back of her throat, and asked, "Severus, I was here looking for information on one of the girls," Snape only raised an eyebrow. Hestia went on, "I'm looking for Ginny Weasley. Do you know where she is?"

Snape looked visibly uncomfortable. He adjusted the cuffs of his black robes, before replying slowly, "I do not know where she is for certain," His clipped tone met Hestia's ears, "Though I cannot deny that there have been…rumors," He paused, thinking. It was some time before he looked at Hestia, his eyes cold, "The only person who knows and who would be able to tell you anything is currently living in The Salem Quarter. Her Master has been called back to Our Lord, thus communication should be easy."

Hestia's mind raced back to the papers she'd just looked over, recalling only two girls who'd once been supporters of Dumbledore who lived in Salem. One she did not know, and the other was…Luna, Ginny's best friend. Hestia looked back at Snape, who was still giving her a cold stare, though his eyes lingered on her face,

"Ask nothing more of me, Hestia," He said coldly, and Hestia nodded, quietly, before biting her lip in a pensive manner.

"Only…." She found herself having to force the words out, "Advice," Were the situation FAR different, Hestia would have found the look on his face hysterical. As it was, she was far from amused, "It's been a year. We've been in one place, with the children. I…" She shut her eyes, "I have a son. He's two months old. And I am raising him in the middle of nowhere. The supplies will run out someday…" She trailed off, still looking at him. Snape was silent again, for a time.

"No Pure who ever swore Loyalty to Our Lord was killed, Hestia," He said at last, his chin lifting as he delicately began closing the desk drawers, his hands brushing over the lists, "One does what one must to…survive."

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Wayne had been tracing the Northern lights onto the side of his wall, describing it to Stephen as he did, when their darkness was broken. His door opened, and he blinked in confusion, as a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him out, as he clutched the sleeping Heathcliff.

"Wait!" Wayne whispered, after realizing what was happening. He was being rescued! How exciting! "We can not leave Stephen, he would be highly disappointed."

Bill frowned, but upon seeing that no other cells showed signs of life, he broke the spells on the door beside Wayne's, to see yet another tall, dark-haired boy within, dressed in a tattered and faded Ravenclaw uniform. Stephen blinked slowly, stepping out of the room and looking around, at the vast expanse of hardwood floors and white walls scorched with spell burns. He swallowed, "I…I haven't seen this room in months," He said distantly, when of course he had. He just couldn't remember.

"Come' on," Bill whispered, waving them toward the exit. Wayne followed first, and then the still dazed Stephen, who gazed up at the sky and it's shining Northern Lights in awe. Bill paused, looking at Wayne, "Is he…alright?"

"Oh yes," Wayne nodded, "He only has not seen the sky in a very long time though."

Hestia met them in the snow, after running from the house. Stopping to catch her breath, she leaned against Bill, who looked at her with desperate, hope-filled eyes, that failed to dim even as she shook her head, "She wasn't on any list," She breathed, as her voice caught up, "But she…she's alive."

"How do you know?" Bill asked, staring at her. Slowly, Hestia related what had transpired in the house, while pulling the three men back toward the woods. Wayne and Stephen stared back at the camp with wide eyes, as the story was told.

"Snape?" Bill shook his head, as they left the Camp behind, "I can't believe it. We're alive because of that slimy bastard…"

"That's not all," Hestia huffed, her breath a cloud in the glowing night, "He told me there was one of our girls who would know where Ginny is," She explained, as Bill hung on her words, "Luna Lov…Nott." She corrected, and both of the boys stopped walking, Wayne with a brilliantly hopeful look on his face, and Stephen with one that was slightly horrified, "She was Ginny's best friend, wasn't she?" Bill nodded, and Hestia paused, realizing the boys had stopped walking, "Apparently she's living in Salem, and she's alone right now."

"Luna's alive!" Stephen gripped Hestia's arm, shocking her slightly. She nodded slowly, rather unsettled by the boy's wide eyes and desperate look, "Who else? Morag? Is Morag MacDougal alive? Kevin Entwhistle? Where's Luna?"

"Whoa," Hestia sighed, wincing, "Calm down. Yes Luna's alive, and Morag, and…and Kevin," She looked at him for a moment, speaking gently, "Kevin is with us. He's sustained some terrible trauma though. Morag was…sold," She tried to remember to whom, as Stephen looked a bit stricken, "I'm not sure to whom. And Luna was sold to Theodore Nott."

"…Nott?" Stephen reeled slightly, shaking his head, "No. She was scared to death of him!" He exclaimed, "He was the only student she was scared of at school!" Beside him, Wayne nodded rather sadly, petting the biscuit tin in his arms.

"I doubt she had any choice in the matter," Bill murmured, "It was Nott senior who killed her father," He looked over at Hestia, "Can we send the girl an owl about Gin?"

"No," Wayne said, in a small voice, which caused everyone to turn and look at him, in the semi-darkness. In his arms, Heathcliff fidgeted a bit, "Please, can we go and get her too? I am quite sure that she must be very lonely…"

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**Author's Notes: **Oh poor Wayne. And hey! I found Jen! Yay! Don't worry tooooo much about Michael, he may just be showing up in the near future. As for Hestia...I'd say she's a collective spirit, hehe. And yes, hopefully I shall have another update today. Two in one day, this seriously refuses to leave the brain.  



	5. Oubliette

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Oubliette

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Here I stand head in hand  
Turn my face to the wall  
If she's gone I can't go on  
Feeling two foot small

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Orla had her baby on the 9th of February, a perfectly healthy girl. Predictably, the young mother had a hard labor, and the Medi-witch on hand insisted on staying with her for the following days. Luna took over with the new human being, sending an owl off to her absent Death Eater father and spending many a long afternoon wandering the halls with the baby in arms.

"I feel like I've been run over by a dump truck," Orla groaned one afternoon, as she was still bedridden. Luna sat at the foot of her bed, holding a rather wrinkly pink being wrapped in white blankets in her arms. Across the room, Quentin had fallen asleep in his chair by the window.

"Well, seeing as how they're not in use anymore, it's safe to say that you weren't," Luna replied. Orla snorted, somehow finding that hysterical. However she still had various sore bits and laughing did not help,

"Ow," She sighed, laughter fading as she fell back against her pillows, "Oh I am going to KILL him when he gets back!"

"Aw, we can not leave poor little Oubby here fatherless though, no matter how much we loathe the man for putting her mother through such pain," Luna reminded her with a small smile, dipping her head down to kiss the top of the baby's head. The past few days had been obvious therapy for Luna, even just for the fact that she was smiling more. It was quite nice, not feeling alone.

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One flaw in the current dealings of the Loyalists and Death Eaters was the fact that they tended to be overly confidant in their own superiority. Why worry about protection from an enemy, when you are the one who has all but exterminated your own enemy? Marius Jugson was the only Death Eater elected to stay in Salem during Voldemort's Audience in London, and after a few eventless nights of silence, squirrels and dripping eaves, he contented himself with polishing his mace and snogging his wife, as opposed to keeping a close watch on the wards. After all, why should he?

It was the night before Valentine's Day. Bill knew this, because Wayne Hopkins had seen fit to remind them of such all day, as they apparated, floo'd, and walked all the way to Salem, Massachusetts. It had taken a week of arguing and planning before Bill was ready to set out to find Luna, with an insistent Wayne and a highly troubled Stephen Cornfoot. The two boys had reacted to the state of their world in very different ways, after coming out of their months of servitude. Wayne had, of course, looked on the bright side. Many of his friends were alive. Stephen however had been hit hard by the blow of so many peers having been murdered…some, perhaps, even by him. Bill could not stop either boy from following him.

Wearing black cloaks and hoods, the three young men finally found themselves in the Witch's Quarter. There was a full moon up overhead, pouring light through the tall, ancient and bare tree branches above her heads. Passing through the woods by tall, stately and darkened houses, Bill lead them toward the one that was supposedly owned by Theodore Nott. A curiosity glance within and a soft spell spoken by the former curse-breaker told them that it was empty, however.

"Do you think he took her with him?" Stephen suggested in a whisper. Bill shook his head under his hood, scanning the trees around them,

"Why would he? Ah!" Bill smirked, indicating lighted windows through the foggy woods, "That's the only House besides Jugson's that I've seen lit. Let's have a look…"

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Orla had fallen asleep early that night. Luna took the baby for her, wandering the Lestrange house as she rocked the tiny girl back and forth in her arms, her long white night dress trailing behind her. For a time she sat in the glassed in courtyard Rabastan had made for his wife and been so proud of, enjoying the moonlight as she hummed the baby to sleep. She could understand how easily Orla put away the realities of what Rabastan did, while sitting in that room surrounded by green things in the winter, the fountain bubbling merrily at her feet. Luna wondered, with a slow sigh as the baby fell asleep, what task The Dark Lord had Theodore doing at the moment…

She was broken from her pensive solitude by the brushing and pattering of small, leathery feet on the smooth marble of the floors. Looking up in the moonlit calm, Luna spotted Lotty running toward her, eyes wide and almost glowing blue in the light. The old House Elf had been Aeneas Nott's only gift to his daughter in law, and Luna had actually been somewhat grateful, "Missus Luna!" The elf whispered, seeming terribly frightened, "There's peoples outsides!"

"What kind of people, Lotty?" Luna stood, holding the child close as Lotty shook her head, ears flapping,

"I don'ts know, missus Luna," The old elf replied, "But they're waiting on the edge of the wards…"

Luna hurried out of the courtyard, down one of the darkened halls to look outside. Rabastan had very strong wards on his home (as he likely should, with a sister in law like Bellatrix), and Luna had added on a simple charm that would alert her own House Elf to anyone unplanned who might show up. Stopping at one of the windows that gave a clear view of the back grounds, Luna spotted three figures standing in a pale glow under the edge of the forest. The tallest of the three was pushing back his hood, exposing long, red, and highly familiar hair.

"Lotty, please let them in," Luna managed, her throat gone dry.

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Bill hadn't met many wards he couldn't hoodwink, but this was definitely one of them. Before he was about to do something drastic however, a door opened on the house and a tiny little House Elf walked towards them, snapping her fingers once before motioning them forward. With one dubious, shared look, all three moved to follow, the hoods pulled up again, low over their faces.

Stepping inside of what was presumably a summer veranda that had been glassed in for the winter, Bill, Stephen and Wayne glanced about, as the old Elf told them to "Wait for Missus!" and hurried off into the house. After only a moment of staring down the long empty porch, another figure appeared in the doorway, at first seeming to be a ghost in white under the moonlight.

"Bill?" She asked tentatively, clutching the bundle in her arms closer to her chest. Bill Weasley had to close his eyes a few times, attempting to reconcile the weird, skinny, bug-eyed kid his sister had hung around with the tall, willowy young woman in front of him. Beside him, Stephen was much the same, quickly flipping back his hood and staring at her, at her wide eyes, her pale face. It was of course Wayne, who broke the silence,

"Luna!" He cried, hurrying forward and grasping one of her hands, "Luna it is me! You do remember me, do you not?"

Luna just stared back at him for a few long minutes, before slowly reaching out, wrapping her free arm around him, mindful of the baby, "Of course I do!" She gasped, hugging him tightly, feeling tears building, "I…I thought you'd died a long time ago, Waynerkins," She was suddenly sobbing against him, and Wayne quite comfortingly hugged her back. Between them though, Orla's daughter had woken up, and decided to protest the cramping of her space.

"Oh my!" Wayne stepped backwards, looking at the fussing baby. Luna quickly composed herself, laughing a little,

"So sorry small lady," She hummed down at the baby, before looking up again, "Orla just had her…" Luna trailed off, as she caught sight of Stephen. Suddenly, she felt the urge to cry all over again, as she recalled memories of late night conversations in the common room, long walks in the snow, and weekends in Hogsmeade. Stephen caught her up in another hug, this time being extra-careful of the baby. Luna shut her eyes, as an old sense of security washed over her. Two of her best friends were still alive…for now,

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"What are you doing here?" She sobbed after a moment, pushing away from Stephen and looking at all three of them, "You could get yourselves killed!"

"We came here for you," Bill said quietly, speaking again at last. He too, gave a brotherly hug to the girl that had once haunted the Burrow almost as often as his own sister had, "And for Ginny…"

Luna stepped back, blinking a few times…Ginny. She shook her head, bouncing the baby again, "Ginny…Ginny is a long way from here, Bill," She glanced over her shoulder nervously; out through the glass that covered the veranda, "You're in a lot of danger, being here…"

"We know," Stephen said softly, reaching out and touching her elbow. Luna stared down at his hand, biting her lip, "We've been looking for you and Ginny for a while now though, and…" He paused, looking at the baby again, "Wait, did you say she was Orla's?"

Luna nodded, looking down at the baby and smiling, "Her name is Oubliette," She told them softly. Looking back up, she saw that there was a rather desperate look in Bill's eye. He might have found Luna, but he was really looking for Ginny. She sighed, and turned to Stephen, "You recall, way back then?" She asked, in her old dreamy, drifting voice, "When Orla was a little girl? Who talked to strangers in her journal?" Stephen nodded slowly, looking at her with a slightly confused look on his face. Luna just smiled, looking back down at Oubliette, "Strangers in journals like taking the girls they talk to. Orla was actually quite lucky. He loves her very much. But Ginny…" Luna trailed off, her eyes going dull again as she glanced over at Bill sadly.

"No," Bill shook his head, feeling as if someone had slapped him. He covered his mouth with his hand, looking away. But Luna just stared on, blankly,

"She's alive," She went on distantly, "But I do not think that you will be able to help her…" Bill felt as if he was going to vomit. Stephen and Wayne however, were just confused,

"Wait, Orla talked to a Death Eater?" Stephen repeated, trying to piece this together, "He was the secret admirer, wasn't he?" Luna nodded, somewhat numbly, "And he married her?" Again, Luna nodded, "And that is their daughter?" Another nod. Stephen ran a hand through his longish brown hair, shaking his head, "Dear Merlin. How old is Orla, even?"

"She is sixteen now," Luna responded, rocking Oubliette back and forth, "And Rabastan has given her many things. She has not seen what the world is like," Luna took a deep breath of the cold night air, "She's only known that he loves her. And that he has treated her well, protected her despite her being a muggle-born, and given her a child," She looked back at Stephen, "You will not be able to take her away from him."

Stephen bit his lip, crossing his arms and glancing over to Bill, who was now leaning against the wall for support. Wayne just looked at Luna, still a bit lost,

"I still do not understand," He said, pulling out the backpack he'd had on under his robes, "What has happened to Ginny Weasley, then?"

Luna looked at Bill, who looked up at her with heartbroken eyes. She shook her head, "You will find her in London, if you find her," She whispered. Looking back at Wayne, Luna smiled again, one of her old brilliant smiles, and under the night sky, it was no wonder that her mother had named her after the moon, "It was so wonderful to see you, Wayne…to see all three of you…"

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"We're taking you with us," Bill said resolutely, pushing himself off the wall and pulling up his hood again. Luna blinked very slowly, as Stephen took her hand again,

"Come on, you can some back with us, no one will see," He said easily, grinning at her, "Megan, Justin, Kevin and a whole lot of the others are still out there too, and they'll be so glad to see you again…"

"No," Luna shook her head, taking a step backwards, away from them. The word had slipped from her chapped lips before she'd even contemplated what he was saying, and she hesitated, once again looking out into the woods. She could leave. Wayne and Stephen were alive, there were other people alive, but…

Luna Lovegood had come to terms with their being dead a long time ago though. She had cried, she had raged, and she had spent a year as slave to her father's murderer. Her old life had died. In it's place she'd let a new one build itself over the ruins of the innocent, eccentric schoolgirl. She thought of Theodore, who'd given her everything anyone could want in this new world. Who looked at her as if no one else in the universe existed, as trite as that comparison used to sound…

Luna felt her eyes brimming with salt water. She smiled though, looking at Stephen ruefully, taking her hand away from his and resting it on his cheek, "I used to be so enamored of you, Stephen Cornfoot," She whispered. Stephen swallowed, nodding his head,

"I know you did," He felt himself wanting to shed a tear as well, and in that moment, he knew what her answer was going to be, "And I'm sorry I never…"

"But then," Luna pushed on, still smiling though tears were running down her face quite unhindered, "Then there was Ernie. I…I didn't think anyone could love me. But I thought if anyone would, it would be you. But it was him," She sobbed, "And he was everything, Stephen, you cannot plan these things. What seems like it should happen? It rarely does. And I was so happy…but then you were both gone," Luna took a deep breath, and a long pause, composing herself, "Now, someone is taking care of me again. And I did not plan this either…"

"It's Nott!" Stephen protested, though he was still getting the picture that this was futile. At his side, Wayne simply watched Luna with sorrowing eyes, as she shook her head,

"He has never hurt me," She whispered, "And I care for him very much. And I…I am going to have his baby. And I am going to stay here, with Orla and…and with Theodore. Our…our lives are here now."

Stephen looked at her for a long time, before he reached up, rubbing his eyes and nodding, "Okay," He whispered, leaning forward and kissing her cheek, "…He hurts you though, and I swear…"

"Okay," Luna said softly, smiling through a curtain of saltwater as Bill stepped forward and hugged her again,

"Thank you," He whispered,

"If you get her back," Luna whispered in reply, "Find a way to tell me?" The tall Weasley nodded, kissing the top of her head and moving away. Luna and Wayne then looked at each other for a while, both with sad, yet pleased eyes. They had gotten to see each other again, one more time. Luna sucked in her breath,

"I think I shall miss you most of all, Scarecrow," She whispered, and Wayne wrapped his arms around her and the baby, burying his face against her shoulder,

"I fear that we shall never see each other again, Miss Luna," He sobbed, and Luna shut her eyes, willing herself not to cry again and failing,

"Someday, perhaps," She sniffled back, "We know we're both okay, though,"

"Yes," Wayne nodded, pulling away, "We do know that," He looked at her for a long moment, and then bent down, opening his backpack, "I brought you someone," He said, pulling out a Biscuit Tin in possession of four legs. Luna gasped, as he put her old pet back in her free arm,

"Heathcliff," She sighed, petting the tin softly. Wayne smiled,

"Goodbye, my friend-Luna,"

"Goodbye…"

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Orla Quirke Lestrange rolled over in her half-awake state, opening her eyes and seeing Luna set Oubliette to sleep in her cradle, next to the bed. The girl yawned, still aching and still groggy, looking at her friend, "I heard noises," She said softly from her pillow. Standing up over the baby, Luna looked at her, brushing her curtain of long hair back over her shoulders, glad that the darkness hid her red eyes.

"It was nothing," Luna relied softly, turned to look out across the woods from the bedroom window…

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As the three young men left the house behind them, they were perfectly silent, all lost in their own thoughts. Wayne looked sad, but oddly heartened. He always did look on the bright side, after all, and Luna had said she was safe and taken care of. Stephen seemed far more morose, his footsteps heavy and his eyes downcast. Bill, however, looked rather stormy and unsettled, a fire burning behind his normally calm, determined eyes.

"So," Wayne said after a time, when a soft snowfall began through the trees, "Where in London is Ginny? Did Luna tell us?"

"Yes," Bill said coldly, "She told us," He felt ill again, and yet…he had to retrieve his sister now. There was no question in his mind. She was alive, and he was going to save her. It was all he had left, "She's with Voldemort."

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**Author's Notes: **bum bum BUUUUM! 

I love everyone, by the way.


	6. The Captive Path

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The Captive Path

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Hope is your survival

A captive path I lead…

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Most of the work that had to be done in England was clean up. When that was done with, many Death Eaters were reassigned to new posts at new camps, most now in the further corners of the world. Theodore was told of his next task, which would be to help in the reconfiguring of the muggle cities of Boston and New York, and then he went home.

After flooing back to Salem, Rabastan and Theodore parted ways near their homes, the former eager to see his family and Theodore seemingly un-phased. His demeanor was calm and composed as he entered the large house, where lights were again lit and fires were burning. Making his way down the main hall and around a corner, where he could see into the sitting room, he caught sight of her. Luna was sitting calmly by the fireplace, her wand out and directing the sewing in her lap, as she read one of her old tattered copies of Wuthering Heights. He'd given her a first edition as a wedding gift of course, but she kept it clean on its shelf. Theodore turned, sending his bags up to their room with a wave of his wand, before entering the room where she sat.

Luna saw him and stood, setting aside her book and her sewing and smoothing her long, pale skirts before she looked up at him. Theodore was not accustomed to seeing what he saw in her eyes then, though it certainly did not displease him. It was something she was doing her best to hold at bay, staring at him with wide eyes as he let his own eyes wander over her figure, wrapped in that filmy pale blue dress. It had been an awfully long two weeks…

"Welcome home," She murmured softly, rubbing her arm self-consciously as his eyes lingered on her. He stepped forward, resting his hands on her hips and kissing her lightly,

"I have thought of you often," Theodore replied softly, regarding her gaze again. Luna bit her lip, clearly wanting to say something back, but not finding her reply. Instead, she took his hand in both of hers, and led him out of the room.

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"Our Lord was pleased with your work?" Luna asked quietly, as they ascended the staircase. Theodore nodded silently, glancing out the windows into the darkness as they passed them,

"My father asked after you," He said idly, and Luna felt slightly colder, shivering a bit,

"Did he?"

"He was rather pleased to know he is to have a grandchild," Theodore murmured with a wry smirk, "I assured him that he was not going to have a namesake…"

"Grandchildren," Luna corrected softly, as the reached the second floor of the house, leaving the stairs. Theodore stopped, and in front of him Luna turned, biting back a smile, "Orla's Medi-witch performed a knowing charm on me. There are two heartbeats."

"Twins do run in my family," Theodore finally replied, a ghost of a smile on his lips, "My sisters will be pleased…"

"Are you pleased?" Luna tilted her head, looking at their linked hands as they stood in the hall. Theodore met her eyes steadily, lifting one of her hands to his lips as he did,

"Of course I am," He murmured, still wondering what was behind her gaze, because it was ready to pour out. She tugged on his hands, pulling him into their bedroom. Stepping around him, Luna shut the door, as Theodore looked around, taking in the windows, "I see you changed the drapes…"

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The door clicked behind him. Theodore turned, in time to feel her warm, slim form collide with his. She was wrapping her arms around him, standing on her toes and attacking his lips, his face, her hands running over his back in a swift, rather desperate motion. Theodore could not help but respond in turn, kissing her back fervently, passionately, a mirror to how he'd bidden her farewell. It managed to slow her down, if only marginally.

She reached up between them, not breaking their kiss as she fumbled with his robes, and then the shirt he was wearing beneath. Theodore had to admit, she'd never taken such initiative before and it was…highly interesting. He buried both of his hands in her hair, kissing her firmly and stilling her for one moment, pulling back slightly,

"Luna," He breathed, catching her eyes again and finally seeing that everything that had been behind them upon his return was spilling forth. Her lips slightly swollen and parted, her copious amounts of hair flying about, she sucked in a breath, shutting her eyes,

"Tell me," She whispered, her mind flying over all that had transpired during their parting. The baby, the melting snow, the way Wayne had looked at her with large eyes, while Stephen tried to pull her along with them, "Tell me that you feel something for me," Luna opened her eyes, scanning his face with a gaze that might even succeed in melting a glacier.

Theodore pressed his lips together, grasping her shoulders and staring at her for a long moment, "I feel something for you," He said firmly, tightening his hold a bit as his eyes went stormy. Luna's went wider, feeling his breath on her cheek, that intense stare holding her captive, "I love you," Which he did, of course. She was the only human being, along with his sisters, that he cared anything for in that world, after all.

Luna could breathe again. She fell forward, once again pressing kisses to his face, but now softly. Slowly running her hands through his longish hair, she sighed against his lips, before pulling back again, "And I love you,"

They were melded then, his hands remembering the slender curves of her slim frame, her lips attached to his as if they were that which kept her breathing. As if she could not breathe without him, breathing into her.

Their lovemaking that night was frantically paced and achingly sweet, both almost battling to prove without words what had finally been acknowledged. He was a Death Eater, and in that moment Luna did not care. He ignited her, and she responded to him in a passion Theodore had never seen her let loose, and it had him gasping her name in their bed as she fell against his chest, her hair falling all around them. After a few moments of catching his breath, Theodore wrapped his arms around her, stroking that long, slightly damp hair, with hands that only shook slightly. Apparently, when she was in a state, Luna had that effect.

"I missed you," She said softly, and Theodore smirked,

"I caught that," He replied wryly. Luna giggled slightly, even as a both strange and comforting realization came over her. He WAS all that she had keeping her alive. She settled into the steadying comfort of his arms, shutting her eyes with a sigh. Theodore was still stroking her hair, staring up at the curtains of their bed thoughtfully, "You are all in this world that I fully trust, you know…" He admitted after a time, which surprised her, to say the least. Again, this was a young man who did not let on much. Luna opened her eyes, lifting her head so that she could look down at him, brushing the hair back from his forehead.

"And you shall always have me," She promised.

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When the Northern Canadian Territories were supposedly completely purged of useless muggles and those with tainted blood, the last Extermination Camp in North America closed. After cleaning the abandoned buildings out of any supplies, Sturgis and Hestia were forced to face the fact that what protection they'd been unaware of having was now gone. And while it was unlikely that Deception Bay would be mapped out for settlement now, when plenty of muggle cities lay empty under a haze of green, there was still ample cause to worry.

Bill returned with the boys just a few days later, their hands empty and their look one that was generally not uplifting. Sturgis built up the fires and Hestia put on tea, while Megan proceeded to smother Wayne in blankets and hot chocolate.

"Ginny's back in England," Bill divulged quietly, as they gathered around Hestia's kitchen table that evening. He rubbed his eyes, staring into his mug of tea, "With Voldemort," He was completely oblivious to the reaction this created in the present company, "And I'm going to go get her," He yawned, "Once I warm up again."

"…Hopefully you'll wait a bit longer than that," Sturgis replied at last. Hestia turned her head and just stared at him, before looking at Bill,

"You're crazy, Bill Weasley," She murmured, sighing, "Are you sure he's the one who has her?"

"Luna and Ginny were taken the same night," He reminded her, "By one of the bastard's most trusted servants. And, if you'll recall, one of the signs we used that it was a clear night to go searching London was that Voldemort was at Nott Manor. Luna knew for sure."

In the corner close to the woodstove where she sat between Zach and Wayne, Megan shut her eyes tightly, resting her head on Zach's shoulder. Others might have gotten used to these sorts of things, but she hadn't. And she was quite sure that she didn't ever want to get used to them. And poor Ginny!

"And how do you think you're ever going to get her away from him?" Selune asked, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a pensive frown on her lips, "If Severus wasn't even sure about it, it must mean she's being kept well-hidden."

"Indeed," Sturgis nodded, "Can't let his followers think he's in possession of any sort of weakness. Though," He grimaced, "I hardly think he'd have any sort of attachment to her,"

"She would be a trophy to him," Bill spat out bitterly, "The only spoils he has of his enemy. Harry's girlfriend."

"Always fun to talk like we know what's going on in a murderer's head," Megan murmured in the corner. Wayne wrapped an arm around her.

"I'm leaving as soon as I can, anyway," Bill sat up, taking a deep breath. Hestia nodded slowly, as he went on, "And hey, it'll be one less drain on the supplies, right?" Hestia smirked at him, shaking her head. Across the table from her, Stephen lifted his head from where it had been resting on his arms for the past hour, staring into space,

"I want to go with you," He said, clearing his throat, "There have to be more people hiding out in Europe too, right?"

"Highly likely," Sturgis nodded, "I know Hagrid was still hiding out around the school when we left."

"Fine by me if you've got a death wish," Bill told him, and Stephen shrugged in the semi-darkness,

"What else am I going to do?"

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**Author's Notes: ** Short? Yes. Transitionals usually are so. Frostbite? Yes, I do have it. 


	7. Briars

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Briars

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There's only for my soul

And undo this fear

Forgiveness for a man who was stronger…

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Soon after Voldemort's victory, a fine mist settled on the edges of Little Hangleton. It seeped through the trees in the darkness, creating a thick pale wall of bewitchment. All those who'd once lived there were gone, and unlike most other muggle villages, it remained void of inhabitants beyond him who now owned it. It all became The Dark Lord's grounds, and few were invited to tread upon them. Little Hangleton was Voldemort's greatest triumph, in that he had completely wiped his besmirched history from existence. Within the mists were all of his spoils, all that he'd taken from anyone he saw as a threat.

It was in this enchanted ghost village that Ginevra Weasley spent her days, under a twilight and darkness that never faded. Certainly, she'd spent her first few days there shouting for help, searching for people, and trying to run off through the mists only to be thrown back. Then she dissolved into yelling, cursing, and raging against empty air, with no one to hear her, save Voldemort, who shut his eyes and enjoyed the sound from his Manor. He'd turned the area into his shrine to revenge, and the girl was the perfect touch. And when he tired of the shouting, he set about to silencing her.

She knew that Voldemort planned to live forever, immortal and untouchable. As such, he had not the same need for her as his mortal followers might have, as a means of an heir. Also, he hated the very thought of tarrying with a blood traitor. It might have been good and logical sport for his Death Eaters not to waste one drop of pure blood, but The Dark Lord had higher standards. He was not fully human, and nowhere near as subject to such distractions and lusts. And of course, why take any sort of partner, when one of your greatest joys is in the destruction of life, and your only fear is weakness?

Still, the duality of that reasoning is what led him to taking her into the manor every so often. It was an easy affirmation of his power, of the corruption of her and Harry's old world. It was a highly seldom event by the time Ginny had nearly been under Voldemort's spell for a year, as even only once was enough for her to be silent, afraid to utter a word lest her pain and horror escape from her throat, thus reminding her of terrible things she'd much rather block away. It was a cruel amusement to him though, and why should he deny himself?

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By February and into March of the following year, Ginny was very silent. Having finally picked a place to stay in the village, she spent her days staring at walls, or reading rare books (plucked from the Hogwarts library before the castle was left in ruins) that she'd already read a thousand times. For days on end she would be alone in the deadly, shadowed silence and stillness, walking numbly under the cover of the trees to keep her limbs from forgetting how to move. If left alone for too long, flickers of her old spirit would come back to her eyes, and she would start to wonder if there were still yet ways to outsmart her prison.

But then He would return, the mists parting just slightly for him as he made his way through empty houses and his empty captive, on his way to the manor he'd stolen back for himself. Ginny's eyes would go dim again, retreating into herself, so that she would not feel the flickers of horror that still ran through her in his presence. She did not like being afraid, and she did not like when she was not in control of her own reactions. But the memory of all Voldemort had done to her…indirectly or otherwise…was burned into her.

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He had been away for three weeks this time. Near the end of it, Ginny found herself wondering if someone out there was causing trouble. It was all she hoped for anymore, that someone would cause him trouble. That maybe someone was out there hiding, still alive. She could not grasp the full scale of what had gone on in the outside world, but she had certainly been an ear to his self-praise. Still…that hope lingered, only to be tucked away quietly when he returned, and called her back to the manor.

"You shall be accompanying me out, at the beginning of next month," He hissed in her ear that night, as she stood by his chair before his fireplace, staring dully into the flames. She had been out only once before, fully hooded and without view of the world around her, and silenced. It was many months ago. She had been able to see Luna, serving them dinner at Nott Manor, but Ginny had not been able to greet her, bewitched as she was.

"There will be a grand event celebrating the Anniversary of my victory," Voldemort went on, as if speaking to the walls. He might as well have been, for how much Ginny responded, "All of my faithful shall attend. And I think it time to put a few of my spoils on display, now that our world is far more secured and absolute," He looks at her, eyes glowing, boring into hers mercilessly for a moment, holding her frozen, "You'll do nicely."

He looked away, and only then did Ginny feel a slight bit of hope stir inside of her. If nothing else, she would at least see her best friend again…

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It was probably one of the more foolish risks William Arthur Weasley had taken in recent months, but he was getting accustomed to risking life and limb. And Stephen Cornfoot was young and foolish enough to follow the older man on adventures in death wishing. They took a floo to Europe, by way of an empty old bakery in Alberta's Wizarding community. They landed in the fireplace in The Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, where the likelihood of running into swarms of Death Eaters was rather high. It seemed luck was with them though, because the only thing they ran into was a huge, hulking, furry half-giant with a crossbow trained on them.

"WHO'RE YEH, COMIN' IN 'ERE?" A voice bellowed as soon as Bill rolled out of the fireplace, Stephen smacking into him a second later. At seeing who they were though, Hagrid lowered his bow, blinking down at the pair of them incredulously, "Bill Weasley? That you?"

"Aye," Bill winced, standing up and brushing himself off in the dusty, rather crumbling room that had once been inhabited by a truly great man, "Who'd you expect, Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes," Hagrid said gruffly, helping the younger boy up off the floor and staring at the two of them, "Well blimey! Come 'ere!" He cried at last, pulling them both into a bear hug that had both somewhat gasping for air, "Thought both of ya's were dead'n gone with th'rest of them," With only a bit of awkwardness, they realized that the man was trying not to cry. Finally he let them go, wiping his eyes with his big hands.

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"Hagrid, how come nothing's happened to you yet?" Bill asked straight out, as the large man motioned them to follow him out of the office and into what remained of Hogwarts. Hagrid shrugged, glancing into a few rooms as they passed. Stephen had to pause outside of the library for a moment…half of the walls were gone, and birds were nesting in the exposed beams, the vast green and snowy Highlands stretching out before them. Mouth agape, he continued to follow.

"They kept comin' back fer days," Hagrid was saying, his voice suddenly tired asit echoed through the halls, and his face suddenly seeming quite old, "Findin' kids hidden in the place 'afore I did. Taking them away, killin' em off…" Hagrid shook his head, reaching up to dry his eyes with the arm that wasn't holding his crossbow, "Me'n Firenze was hiding out in the forest with a bunch o'the kids, jest watchin' them ruin the place. But then," He ducked as they passed under a collapsed archway, "Then they went to destroy Dumbledore's tomb, heh," He shook his head, "Soon as they did, was like the place woke up mad! They were all thrown out of the grounds, n'You-know-who 'imself couldn't get inside!"

"You're kidding!" Bill gaped, "I've…never heard of wards just regenerating like that. And so strongly? Voldemort ripped them to bits!"

"Hasn't been a Death Eater 'ere since," Hagrid told him, as they descended the stairs to what was once the Great Hall. The once famed ceiling was mostly gone, and what was left was nothing more than ordinary, rotting tiles and timber, silhouetted against the blue sky. The House tables were toppled and the floor and walls were all scorched, the banners above tattered or missing.

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The other two men went to go outside, but Stephen stayed. He approached the Ravenclaw table, which was lying on its side, and he touched the aged oak, feeling a lump forming in his throat. This is where he used to sit. And Morag would sit next to him, between he and Michael...he looked left. Lisa and Anthony and Terry all used to be over there, before they disappeared or died. He looked across the way, where the toppled benches were. Luna used to sit across from him, sometimes squished between Ginny and Ernie as they laughed, swapped Quibbler articles and ate off of each other's plates. And behind him, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger would be sitting all together at the Gryffindor table, which had been splintered in two.

Stephen shut his eyes. They'd all been at dinner when it happened. He'd tried to get to one of the first year girls before the Death Eater behind her did, but was too late. As such he'd been separated from his friends. He was there in time to see Voldemort blow the Gryffindor table to bits and then engage Harry Potter in a duel, before he'd been knocked over, stunned. The very last thing he remembered of that night was a girl's voice he thought he knew, shouting his name as he fell...

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"Stephen!" He turned around on his heel, eyes wide. It took a few minutes to process in his brain, as he saw the small figure with choppy blonde hair hurling herself at him. It wasn't until she had him in a death-grip of a hug that he grinned, hugging her back,

"Hey Morag…" He swallowed, shutting his eyes… "Wait," He pulled back, resting his hands on his shoulders and looking down into her face, frowning, "We heard you'd been sold!"

"I was," The former Ravenclaw said matter-of-factly, nodding. And then she grinned, "And you know how very hard I work to endear myself to Death Eaters."

"You pissed him off?" Stephen laughed, incredulous, as Morag MacDougal nodded again,

"And while I was being shipped back to my dad and his child bride, I bolted," She smiled in an overly brilliant manner, and for a moment it almost felt like they were back in school and Morag had just tripped someone on the way to dinner. But at the same moment, they sobered, stepping back and looking at each other, "Where have you been?" Morag asked him softly. Stephen shrugged,

"Canada," He replied, looking away, "Extermination Camp,"

"Oh," She nodded, biting her lip, "I'm sorry…"

"I don't remember any of it," He was quick to say, looking back at her. Morag looked up at him, nodding again. Stephen kicked at a few splinters at his feet, "So, how long were you…?"

"Four months," Morag said quickly, tucking her hair behind her ears, speaking very quickly, "My dad's marriage to Nott's daughter gave me some protection, but then he was getting pressured to have me married off so," She took a deep breath, "Turns out the guy had very low tolerance for a severe lack of submission. But why risk hexing Aeneas Nott's step-granddaughter?" Morag gave a mirthless smirk, and Stephen slowly smiled back. He pulled her back for another hug,

"I'm glad he didn't," He said quietly. Morag nodded against his shoulder,

"And good job not getting yourself killed," She managed in a shaky voice.

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Despite the mysterious protection now surrounding the grounds of Hogwarts, the school itself stayed empty. The few who took advantage of its protection were living deep in the Forbidden Forest, in outbuildings and other sorts of shelters. The Centaurs had long ago abandoned them to their fates, save for one. And though he did not fully understand the new ward that had fallen over Hogwarts, Firenze did his best to daily strengthen it, with what natural magic lingered there.

Bill and Stephen were led into the trees, where once had been a temptation to youthful restlessness. Now it was sheltering a collection of orphans and their meager guardians. Hagrid has built two cabins, one a home for Professor Flitwick, who'd gone deaf in the last battle but still had a lot of life in him. He was in charge five of the younger children that had survived, along with Morag, who'd chosen to live with them in hiding as opposed to going home to her father only to be married off again. In the other cabin, Augusta Longbottom and Neville were keeping an eye on Frank and Alice. Bill wanted to ask how they'd managed to escape London, but Morag warned him not to, until he had time to listen to Augusta rant for a few hours. And somewhat removed from the other two shelters was a small cave, where extra buildings had been added on, and a few tree-houses were in the nearby pines and oaks. Hagrid told the visitors that this was where the supplies were kept safe, guarded at night by Seamus Finnigan, Katie Bell…and George Weasley.

"GEORGE!" Bill shouted as if he'd been shot when he saw his brother walking out of the cave under the sunshine that filtered through the trees above. The two embraced, as Katie Bell laughed down at them from one of the tree-houses, "Damnit, you filthy bloody wanker!" Bill laughed, hugging George, "You were supposed to be dead!"

"I am!" George said cheerily, though everyone could tell that his eyes were getting misty, "Fred died, but…well, with a bit of clever paperwork on someone on the inside's part, his body became both of ours'," He explained, once Bill had gotten over some of the initial shock,

"Someone on the inside…?" The older Weasley was highly confused. No one had ANYONE 'on the inside' in their world. But George nodded,

"Yep, Michael Corner," George replied, as they set about getting some food together to celebrate the simple fact that more people were alive that they didn't know about, "So holy hell, Bill!" He laughed again, "Why are you risking your neck traveling?"

"It's Ginny, George," Bill told him, getting serious once more, as he was swiftly reminded of why he was back in Europe, "She's in a…really bad place."

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**Author's Notes: **I really enjoyed writing this chapter, but I do hope it flows well with the next. Hmm. Anywhoo, thanks for all of the reviews guys, you make me feel special hehe 


	8. Binding Ties

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Binding Ties

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With a sigh  
You turn away  
With a deepening heart  
No words to say

You will find  
That the world has changed forever

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If she had bothered to picture it at all, Orla would certainly not have imagined her future dinner table to look as it currently did, all set with silver, china and linen, the candles lit and, Bast glancing at her now and then fondly, over their warm glow, and her sister in law still glaring. It was an evening in early March, and the younger Lestrange couple was hosting a small family dinner. Having Bellatrix Lestrange sending her calculated looks from across her dining room, while Rabastan, Rodolphus and Theodore were deep in conversation and Luna was still green around the gills next to her, Orla almost felt amused.

Almost.

"I trust you've heard of the Grand Gala the Dark Lord is throwing next month," Bellatrix said to no one in particular, when the men's conversation died down, "For the celebration of a year of His great Rule…?"

"Yes dear sister, who hasn't?" Bast replied with an indulgent smirk, which succeeded in making his sister-in-law glare back,

"I was only wondering if you planned on attending," She glanced at Theodore, "Young Nott and his…wife…as well."

"As if we would be foolish enough not to," Rabastan scoffed over his wine. Theodore simply nodded his agreement,

"All of the faithful were commanded to attend," He replied quietly. Luna buried her face in her water goblet…no elven wine for her, for obvious reasons. Actually, it was then that Luna noticed that Bellatrix seemed to be refraining from the alcohol as well. The older woman noticed her eyeing the water, and smirked slightly. Oh, how Luna was looking forward to traveling back to London with this woman, not to mention spending a week celebrating with Death Eaters while suffering through morning sickness. Clearly, just what she needed.

Orla, on the other hand, was becoming far more sure of herself in Bellatrix's presence, mostly due to Luna's instruction. The key to surviving her glare was to play the part of the submissive, agreeable trophy wife, as opposed to the intimidated young muggleborn. Still, tonight Bellatrix seemed to be in a rare, pleased form, a fact that was lost on no one.

As desert appeared on the table, Oubliette began to cry from the next room. Setting her utensils aside, Orla stood quickly, "I'll take care of her," She murmured, glancing at Luna and then leaving the room, as Bast watched her go. Luna looked at Theodore once, before following her. The two girls were getting very good at non-verbal communication. And as Bellatrix began loudly pointing out the fact that the pair was likely plotting to kill their husbands while they slept, Luna slipped from the dining room and across the hall, to the first floor nursery.

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"What is it?" Luna asked softly, as Orla rocked the slightly fussy baby back and forth in the dim light. The younger girl bit her lip, shaking her head,

"I'm probably overreacting," She whispered back, pointing her wand at a bottle that was sitting on a nearby changing table, to warm it, "But notice that Bellatrix looks like an overly pleased feline lately?" Luna nodded, and Orla winced, "She's pregnant."

"No!" Luna had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. Or gasping, "But doesn't she abhor all things domestic?" The very thought of Bellatrix caring for a child almost made Luna want to vomit. The woman was the cruelest human being alive! Even the way the Death Eater's eyes would rest on Oubliette, or Luna's own midsection, her eyes flashing and…well, evil…it made Luna go a bit cold. But there was Orla, nodding,

"Apparently," She went on, picking up the bottle and giving it to the baby girl, "She realized that if she did not get on making a kid, when she and Rodolphus die, their money goes to me and Rabastan, little Oubby here, and whoever else we decided to create. And you know how she dislikes being shown up by me in any way…the spineless child-bride…"

"Well that explains that," Luna shuddered, "Still…"

"I know," Orla swallowed, holding her baby closer, "At least this will probably keep her off of my case for a while."

"Hopefully," Luna wrapped her arms around herself, looking down at the baby. It was about the time for more of them to be born, pureblooded Death Eater offspring, and for the first time she realized that not all of them would have homes as good as her and Orla's children would. She still felt ill…though, that might have been due to her current physical situation. Luna shook her head, "So you are going to London with us?"

"As far as I know," Orla said distantly, feeding the deeply thankful baby, "Quentin will stay here…Oubliette will come along," She smiled, "Bright side, we get to make baby-sized ball-gowns…"

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It had been a week since Bill and Stephen returned to Hogwarts, and they were still plotting how to return to England, where the followers of Voldemort were most thickly concentrated. Their strategy was still not quite stable when they decided to start going and see what happened. Such seemed to be working for Bill Weasley thus far.

"Tomorrow," Bill told Stephen that night, giving him a brotherly smack upside the head, as he passed the bonfire the younger boy and Morag were sitting by, "Get good and ready for various forms of doom and gloom."

"So soon?" Stephen yawned, "Has George decided if he's coming along or not?"

"That's where I'm going right now," Bill thumbed over at the cave, walking backwards toward it, "If Katie doesn't kill me first." He turned and slipped through the makeshift door to the cave, leaving the two to the quiet crackling of the warm fire, sending sparks flying up into the black night sky under the trees. Leaning back on his elbows in the dry, cleared forest dirt with his feet stretched out toward the flames, Stephen looked over at Morag, who sat next to him with her arms wrapped around her knees, face lit in the orange glow.

"Didn't we used to talk about having a big bonfire our last night of school?" He asked distantly, and Morag smirked,

"Yup," She replied, just as quietly, tilting her head and resting it on her knee, so that she was looking at him, "We were going to have it the night before we left in fact, when they couldn't do anything to us."

"School tradition, really," Stephen nodded, "That or a midnight swim in the lake,"

"Ugh, too cold, even in June," Morag scrunched up her nose, "A fire would have been far better," She looked back at the bonfire, shivering a bit, "Too bad we never got to do that…"

"Yeah…too bad," Stephen said softly, also looking back at the fire for a bit. The two of them were both lost in their own thoughts for a moment, of how their graduation might have gone, or of how crazy their seventh year night could have gotten. And of course, they recalled what had stopped it all from happening. Sucking in a breath, Stephen looked back over at her, smirking again, "Remember that time I pushed you into the lake seventh year?"

"Hey!" Morag laughed, turning her head, "I pushed you in, and you just pulled me along!"

"I beg to differ Miss," Stephen scoffed, "There was definite pushing on MY part involved,"

"Well regardless, we were both sodden through," Morag snorted, remembering that day all too well. Not only had it been an epic water fight, it had…well, also been the day she had all but admitted to having feelings for him, in her typically bad way, "We didn't really talk as much as we used to after that, did we?"

Stephen blinked, looking at the fire and then back at her, "Well you're a whole lot better at talking now," He joked, grinning rather ruefully, "And no, we didn't."

"Oh let's face it, I had issues then," Morag laughed, though her tone was a bit more serious, "Things just seemed so awful then, what with finding out my mum was dead and my dad was marrying a…" She shook her head, that choppy blonde hair (which was a bit shorter than Stephen remembered) falling in her eyes, "Funny how your attitude changes after…" She bit her lip, "Well, anyway. Yeah, first I thought you and Luna had something going, and that made me jealous. Not because I liked you at that point, but because you were my best friend and nobody else got to have you," She grinned, "Blimey, I was more typically seventeen than I would admit."

"Clearly," Stephen smirked, though now his eyes were watching her closely, "You thought Luna and I had something going?"

"Well! You talked all the bloody time," Morag poked him, but he shook his head,

"We…could have…maybe. We were good friends," He said seriously, "But I didn't see her all summer after sixth year, and when I finally did…"

"She was with Ernie," Morag nodded, sighing, "Those two had a rough lot…"

Stephen just nodded. He couldn't talk about them, Luna had turned out to be like his sister and now she was…well. He shook his head, "So," He said softly, "If we had been a bit smarter and not so…typically seventeen…do you think anything would have happened?"

Morag snorted again, though a grin tugged at her lips. She rested her head on her knees again, looking at him, "Maybe," She allowed, grinning, "Though really, I was insufferable and you were so obnoxiously noble."

"You…! I was!" Stephen paused, shrugging, "Yeah, you were pretty insufferable." Morag laughed, slapping him upside the head, "Ow! Why does everyone insist on abusing me tonight?" He sighed.

"You're very abuse-able," Morag informed him, now sitting back and mirroring his position on the ground, "I think we could have had…something," She smiled, "We could have been the bickering couple of Ravenclaw."

"More epic water battles and throwing of personal items at each other across the common room," Stephen snorted, looking over to see her laughing as well, "Followed by the obligatory makeup snogs in public areas."

"Oh we would have been unforgettable!" Morag declared, laughing, though a bit of color was creeping into her face, "Alas, what could have been," She trailed off, looking once again toward the fire. Stephen followed suit, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully, reaching up and running a hand through his longish hair somewhat nervously. Morag sighed, "Stephen, why are you following Bill Weasley to England?"

"Why?" Stephen blinked, at the expected yet still abrupt subject change. He shrugged, hair falling in front of his face again, "He wants to try and get his sister, and he needs help."

"But why risk killing yourself for someone else's sister?" Morag asked more pointedly, turning to her side and resting on her elbow, looking at him, "Why YOU?"

Stephen was quiet for a few moments, eyes fixed on his worn and tattered trainers as he contemplated her question, "I guess," He replied, slowly, "Because I can't just stay in hiding. I need to do something, Morag," He looked over at her, "I couldn't do anything for Luna, or for Orla, and after I'd probably killed hundreds of people…"

"That wasn't your fault…"

"I still did it," Stephen said sharply, and then sighed, "All of us that survived probably only have so long before…" He shook his head, huffing, "I don't want to die knowing that the most I ever did with my life was to kill muggles and muggle-borns."

"Bullocks," Morag whispered, though she smirked a bit, "You're still obnoxiously noble. And here I thought you'd changed, Stephen Cornfoot."

"Sorry to disappoint," He whispered back, looking at her again. She gave a small laugh, reaching up to wipe her eyes. Merlin, he was likely going to die if he went back to England. She bit her lip,

"Promise me you won't get yourself killed?"

"I'll try not to,"

"You won't," Morag whispered firmly, looking him in the eye…those gorgeous blue eyes that had once had every girl in Hogwarts falling all over themselves, while their owner had been completely oblivious. And Morag had been overly possessive, of a boy she never thought she'd ever have, or want to have. He reached over, flicking a bit of her uneven blonde hair from her eyes, before leaning over, and touching his lips to hers.

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The following morning, Bill, Stephen, and George all left the grounds of Hogwarts. Morag and Katie looked oddly resigned, while Seamus and Neville protested their being left behind. Bill had assured them that Hagrid and Firenze needed their help more.

Having had to survive on the run and on his own for a few months after Voldemort's Victory, George knew a bit more about the state of things in Wizarding Britain. He led them through the melting snow and budding grasses to Hogsmeade, which was completely deserted. Bill and Stephen looked on in sorrowing awe, while George was un-phased, even enjoying the rising scent of spring, which lifted into the air above the ruined village.

The Three Broomsticks was nothing more than a pile of rubble, as was most of that part of the settlement. The buildings that were still standing were only just. The steady wind blew creaking boards and tattered old signs or flags in the deserted calm. George stopped outside of the old boarded up Zonko's shop, sighing. He looked back at Bill, who was inspecting the remains of Honeyduke's, "You say you made it through the floo from Alberta just fine?"

"Perfectly fine," His older brother nodded, looking back at him. Stephen kicked at some of the charred, rotting boards left over from the sweet shop. Word had it that Lavender Brown had managed to run as far as that shop before she was killed, the hex setting fire to the place…

"Well I'm willing to bet that means they've quit monitoring the floo system," George said brightly, opening the door and motioning them inside the dusty, messy shop, "We'll floo to Ottery St. Catchpole,"

"Why so far from London?" Stephen asked quietly as he entered, as if in respect for any ghosts that might be lurking. Bill looked as if he wanted to ask the same question. George laughed,

"Oh right, yeah, that's a smart move," He scoffed, leading them toward the back, where the old fireplace still lingered, "I know this is a suicide mission lads, but we'd at least like to put in a good effort, for Ginny-love," He pulled out his wand, to start a fire in the unused floo, "We floo straight into London, we'll have the very best chance at instant death. Nah, we're flooing home, and then we'll send out an owl to our good friend Michael…"

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**Author's Notes: **Loff. Next chapter: Michael, Alicia, and possibly a train ride and 99 Red Balloons... 


	9. A Quiet Stand

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A Quiet Stand

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Thou thy worldly task hast done,  
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.

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One would have expected the Ministry to fall completely apart once Voldemort swept through, but it was not so. In fact, it was sickeningly remarkable how quickly and how many pureblooded officials swore loyalty, after seeing their fellows fall to The Dark Lord's wand, and after they were promised the new worlds choicest spoils. Very quickly, those who were exterminated were replaced, and new departments went into place while others fell away. Thus it was that one of the Dark Lord's likeliest chances for complete chaos was taken over swiftly, seamlessly, and in a silent stream of blood.

Michael Corner had counted his blessings daily. Having discovered a new use for his once Lothario-esque charm, he'd managed to keep himself alive and get himself placed in the newly arranged Ministry of Magic. At first, he was just moving papers between the extermination offices, a grunt worker who was thanking Merlin he wasn't stuck under imperius killing his friends. He was just killing them via paperwork. That was another thing he'd discovered…even in the brutal new order, if it was on official parchment, it was gospel.

Case in point, his marriage to Alicia Spinnet: completely nonexistent, save on paper. But he was keeping her alive and keeping himself from getting paired off on some inbred pureblood wench. Michael also knew that there were plenty of people out there who weren't dead, who should have been, and he was likely the only person at the new Ministry who did. Some, like George Weasley, probably thought he was being pretty noble. The reality was, he had a weight of guilt on his back for not dying for the cause along with so many of his friends.

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On the 13th of March, he woke up rather late, as usual, rolling out of bed, running a hand through his hair and making his way across his open studio flat to the kitchen area. His lovely roommate was already awake, sitting at the table and reading a book over her cold cereal, "Here," Alicia held up a letter, not looking up from her book, "Owl came for you earlier, nearly pecked my eyes out, too…"

Michael smirked, "Thanks," stealing a metal clip from her hair, he slit the rather old and tattered envelope. Now that was odd. He studied the musty muggle paper for a moment, a slightly confused frown crossing his face. If he got mail from anyone, it was usually on crisp, Ministry standard parchment. Opening the letter, he felt a rather panicky, cold sensation settle in his stomach, "Huh," He said shakily, "We're ah…going to have company tonight."

"Oh?" Alicia looked up, frowning as well when she noticed the look on his face, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," He mumbled, turning and looking back at his corner of the flat, "I'm going to get dressed, and…work on some things…"

"You're doing the thing again," Alicia rolled her eyes, as Michael hurried off to rummage through his clothes, "Where you…leave out words and as such make no SENSE…"

"George Weasley's back in England," He tossed her the letter, as he yanked a shirt on over his head, "With Bill and…and Stephen," His old best mate. Michael shook his head in disbelief, while Alicia just stared at the letter in her hands, "I have to figure out how the hell I'm going to get them into London…"

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Ottery St. Catchpole was yet another abandoned village, though the damage there was considerably less than that in Hogsmeade. Most of its houses lie untouched and empty, the countryside slowly growing over the cottages and houses, some of which had survived for hundreds of years. There had been one of the first extermination camps in the main village, but it too was now empty and deserted, the scorched and blackened ground in the town square the only signs that it had been there.

Sifting through the layer of dust that had settled over the Burrow, Bill, George and Stephen waited where they were, only able to hope that George's owl hadn't gotten checked. While his brother sat by the kitchen window, staring out over his mother's dusty pots and pans, Bill wandered the house, gently picking up family pictures and long-forgotten projects started by Molly, Ginny, Hermione or Luna. In the living room, he spotted Ginny's basket of knitting. Within were half-finished scarves in red and gold, as well as various spools of house colored yarn, and the many sets of knitting needles she and Luna used to make, hand painting flowers on them with nail polish on summer days while his mum made lemonade. Bill swallowed once, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, and tucking the basket into the sack he'd carried over his shoulder.

"Oi, look here," George sat up at mid-morning, alerting Stephen, who'd fallen asleep at the table across from him. Bill returned to the room just in time to see their owl flying back, holding a far crisper and cleaner letter than the one they'd sent out. Plucking it from the bird's beak, George read over it quickly, grinning, "Good man, knew I could count on him!"

"Yeah?" Bill asked, and George nodded,

"He's got a secure place for us to floo to," He folded the letter again, standing up at the table, "And then it'll be lots of running through back alleys in muggle London. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pick up some more of my old clothes…"

"Can I bum some off of you?" Stephen asked hopefully, as he was still wearing his old tattered uniform trousers and one of Justin's old jumpers. George smirked,

"Plenty of old Weasley wares for the taking…"

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"They gave you a building?" Were the first words out of Stephen's mouth, after he tumbled out of the floo in Diagon Alley and hugged Michael, who shook his head,

"Ministry's short-handed, surprise, surprise," He laughed somewhat nervously, keeping his voice low in the small printing office, that Stephen felt he vaguely recognized. Michael looked out of the windows cautiously as Bill and George showed up, before turning back to his guests, "When you're the clerk in charge of writing up lists, you are the only one in the department. I come here once a week to print up reports," His hands were still twitching, and his eyes were wide, "Sorry but I won't feel safe until we're back at my flat," He whispered, looking at Bill, as he seemed to be carrying the most belongings, "Have you got cover?"

"Oh yeah," Bill nodded, and after digging around in the sack for a bit, he pulled out the three black cloaks. Pulling up his own hood over his face, Michael smirked,

"Right then! Off we go…"

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Alicia was pacing back and forth in the flat, having drawn all of the shades closed over the large windows, and putting on hot water for tea with lunch. The door opened and she jumped slightly, shutting her eyes and letting out an anxious breath when she saw Michael, "Merlin, I thought we were getting swept…"

"I told you we'd be quick," Michael replied, pushing back his hood and motioning the other three men inside. Alicia laughed,

"Yeah, after getting me all freaked out before you left," She looked over just as George was pulling off his black robe, and she launched herself at him, hugging him tightly, "George!" She cried, "How are you?"

"Squished!" George grinned, kissing the top of her head, "Katie sends her love,"

"Katie," Alicia sighed, "I miss having her around so much…" She glanced toward the kitchen, where Bill had taken off his cloak and was setting their belongings down. She blinked, "Wow you're…still tall,"

"…Astute observation," Bill replied, smirking, while Stephen began plying Michael with questions. They hadn't been able to talk, while running through the mostly deserted backstreets of London, avoiding undue attention…

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A few hours and a few warm meals later, the shades were still pulled and the city outside was darker than it had ever been in the old days. The flat was filled with candles and a few charmed electric lights ("Not much electricity running in You Know Who's city," Michael had reminded them all), and the record player Alicia had turned on, to cover the sound of their softly speaking voices, even as the door was warded. The boys took turns at taking hot showers and washing their clothes, all the while with Michael and Alicia catching them up on how things were in Europe, and in the ministry.

"At least the rules of Quidditch have stayed the same," Alicia was saying, "Even though I CAN'T PLAY," She huffed, helping Stephen mend his old pair of trousers in the middle of the room, where cushions were thrown on the hardwood floor as a makeshift living room, "Apparently the Slytherin rules live on. I'm just a ref now."

"Better than nothing," George nudged the corduroy pillow under her bum with his foot as he passed, and she stuck out her tongue at him. Gloomy as the world was outside, somehow, nobody really wanted to talk about anything excessively serious, at least not yet. The flat was warm and filled with a cheery glow and a gathering of friends…something that very few of their peers were around to enjoy.

"…And the last ruffian cleansed," Bill said as her exited the washroom in standard black t-shirt and jeans, his hair dripping as he struggled to get a comb through it. George squinted as he leaned against the kitchen table, studying said hair for the first time, as for quite a while his brother's trademark hair had been back in a knot. Bill paused in his battle with his tresses, looking back at George, "What?"

"Mate, when was the last time you cut it?" Stephen provided the words for the speechless Weasley, as he took in the elbow-length, split-ended ginger nest. Bill shrugged,

"We haven't exactly been near any salons," He grumbled, yanking the comb through with a wince. George finally found his voice, laughing,

"Yeah Bill, but," He forced out, shaking his head, "You had to have scissors at some point. I mean, there's Rock-Star and then there's drag queen in a bad wig…"

"Alright!" Bill growled, giving up the battle. Looking up from the pillow-living room where she'd been snickering with Stephen, Alicia grinned, untangling herself from a cross-legged position and standing up, setting aside wand, needle and thread,

"I've got trimming scissors in here," She made her way to the kitchen, opening a drawer and pointing to the chair across from Michael at the small table, "Romeo here can't cut his own hair either. Sit." Blinking once, Bill shrugged, doing as she said and handing her the comb.

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"So," He cleared his throat, as Alicia started in on slowly combing his damp hair into sections. Bill looked over at Michael, who looked back at him, clearly feeling less jovial than everyone else in the room, "Ginny."

"I know," Michael sat back in his chair, letting out a long sigh, paired with the soft snipping sounds of Alicia carefully trimming away the long-neglected split ends and Snow Patronus on the record player, "What you're saying…well I can't say it surprises me," He said plainly, "I'm the one who gets the camp records and copies them off for the official lists, and I've never seen her name anywhere. And the rumor mill at the Ministry has always whispered about him keeping a girl in his House, as secretive as he is," He winced, really not wanting to think about it. He and Ginny had been…pretty close, "But it's also common knowledge that nobody gets in there. Nobody. You can't even get close to where his House is, and very few of his big-name followers have ever been there, at least since he's warded it."

"And he never takes her out?" Bill asked, leaning forward. Alicia frowned, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him back. George and Stephen were also listening closely, the latter still mending his clothes. Michael shook his head,

"Like I said, even the fact that he had someone is just a rumor," He shrugged, running a hand through his own messy brown curls. Ginny… "I don't know what to tell you," He finished softly. Once again, the only sound was Alicia's scissors, the music, and George's scuffling feet. Bill sighed, wondering if his ward-breaking skills were enough to match Voldemort's protection. The snipping stopped for a moment, and Bill felt a hand slide through his hair once…he shut his eyes.

"There is…a slim chance…" Michael said slowly, scratching his chin, "I mean, it's a long shot, but. He's throwing this huge gathering to celebrate the Anniversary of…when he killed Harry," He bit his lip for a minute. Now granted, there had been plenty of times when Michael had wanted Harry out of the picture, but still, "It's going to last a week, and all of his bigwigs are going to be there. Extra security spells are being put into place where the gathering is being held, because he's planning on showing off his spoils," Michael winced again, "It's the theme I'm guessing. He could take her out on show…"

"She is one of his prizes," Bill murmured, noting the amount of ginger hair on the floor. A few slightly shorter bits were near his face, in his eyes, and he blew them aside…apparently he had layers. He smirked wryly, "So I suppose…I could…see if he brings her out," He pondered, "And work out a plan from there…"

"Definitely slightly less insane than going straight for You-Know-Who's house," Alicia said above him, carefully trimming away the last few sections. George and Stephen looked at each other, and then back at Bill,

"Sounds like something distantly intelligent," George nodded, smirking with forced bravado. Michael looked up, giving them as much of a supportive smile as he could manage. George tilted his head, "So that gives us a few weeks of slumming it at Mr. and Mrs. Corner's…"

"Bite your tongue!" Alicia said sharply, inadvertently giving Bill's hair a tug. He laughed, giving his hair a shake as she stepped back. At her behest, Stephen tossed Alicia her wand, and she gave her subject a quick drying spell, "There you go," She grinned, as he left the table and bent down to look at his reflection in the oven glass, "I trimmed off about five inches…"

"Yeah you did," Bill nodded, impressed. The once ratty mess now fell smoothly around his shoulders and framed his face, as it hadn't in over a year. Not since…well, not since Tonks had died. He'd just let it go. And now it was lying in piles on Alicia's kitchen floor. Standing straight up again, he instinctively tied it back in a ponytail before facing her again, with a very small smile, "Thanks," Alicia smiled back, grabbing a broom from the closet and smiling back,

"Don't mention it."

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**Author's Notes: **The formatting of events drove me nuts here, and while it might not be entirely smooth, everything I wanted to have in it is there, hehe. Enjoy the foreshadowing of various plot twists? Of course you did. More stuff next chapter!  



	10. Interludes

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Interludes

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Winter's end,  
Promises of a long-lost friend  
Speaks to me of comfort

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But I fear  
I have nothing to give  
I have so much to lose…

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It was finally silent on the train. Luna was seated by the window of her compartment, sewing a sleeve on one of her Masquerade gowns while her wand directed the tulle to sew itself to the hem by her feet. Dressed in her long navy travel robes and looking properly bored, she fit in well with the crowd on the train. Everything Voldemort and his followers did was theatrical and extravagant those days, and the trip from London out to Devonshire was no exception. It was as if the party had already begun, the players wandering the train in finery and pomp.

When they had arrived in London the day before, things had been…chaotic, to say the least. Diagon and Knockturn were filled with Death Eaters and Loyalist higher-ups, all scowling at each other, shopping for dress robes or meeting for tea. Orla and Luna had gotten minimal shopping in, before returning to their hotel gratefully. The madness had continued on the train, Bellatrix and Narcissa getting into a row right outside of their compartment when they first got moving. Eventually things had died down though, once the weariness set in. Presently, Luna found herself smirking, as she sewed.

"And what is so amusing?" Theodore asked at her side, where he'd been reading. He spoke in a soft voice just above a whisper, mindful of the sleeping pair across from them. Rabastan was asleep sitting up, head resting on the plush seat, while Orla was curled up beside him, her head on his arm. Near their feet, Oubliette was napping in her bunting. Luna shook her head, tucking hair back behind her ear, jostling the fish-shaped charm there,

"Everything," She replied softly, not looking up from her sewing, "The very fact that we are taking a train out to Devonshire, to a collection of elaborate cottages, each of which will have its own floo, with which we can all get BACK to London to finish our shopping, as we still have well over a week before the festivities. And never mind the fact that most everyone present can apparate…"

"Ah, but see here my dear Ravenclaw, where would the ceremony be in that?" Theodore noted wryly, eyes settling on her busy profile, framed by the overcast, green countryside through the glass, "Frivolities might not be your cup of tea, but you certainly should appreciate the Mad Tea-Party feel of things."

"Highly mad," Luna murmured, just as another figure stopped outside of their compartment, his silhouette distorted by the textured glass. Still, Luna knew him all too well. He rapped on the door once, before sliding it open and taking one step within. Theodore looked from Luna back down at his book, not hiding the smirk on his face,

"Father," He greeted civilly, while still looking down. Aeneas Nott glanced about, taking in the silent company,

"Theodore," The tall, thin man replied, pale blue eyes passing over Rabastan and his family, "What a…cozy little gathering you have in here."

"I find it suitable," Theodore nodded, still not looking up. Aeneas gave him a small frown, before his eyes settled on Luna, who was intently studying her sewing. The older man smirked at her discomfort, knowing he bore a remarkable resemblance to her husband, with a bit more age and a bit more grey in the sandy hair,

"So it would seem, girl, that you've proven yourself more useful than I first anticipated," He told her with a delicate charm, and Luna shivered. It was different between them now, since Theodore had woken her up from a long, numb sleep within the old man's halls. Now she was fully aware of the way he leered at her. She fully remembered the way her father had looked when Aeneas Nott had tortured him to death on her sitting room floor, "It has pleased me to know that I will have…grandchildren."

Theodore looked up then, his face impassive while his eyes flashed slightly, "And how are my sisters these days?" He asked quietly, and his father's attention abruptly shifted back to him,

"Calista is quite well," Aeneas stood a bit straighter, smoothing the front of his black robes, "Though I must say, MacDougal is putting up with her headstrong side far more than I had hoped. And Colette has managed to keep herself unwed."

"Such is her choice," Theodore nodded and looked back to his book, smiling to himself even as his father narrowed his eyes in slight annoyance,

"Oh do encourage her," He grumbled, "The world for the taking, and no children to take it. Oh!" He looked up again, smiling, "That reminds me. Upon very good counsel," Meaning Voldemort's, Luna fancied, "I have decided to take a second bride, at long last," At this, Theodore looked up sharply again, "The Chambers had one daughter still unmarried, and as such, I took them up on their offer. They should be at the gathering…"

"Media?" Luna looked up, swallowing. Aeneas smiled somewhat scathingly,

"Why yes, one of your old dorm mates, wasn't she?" He moved to go, "I will see you two later, children," And on that note, he left. Luna bit her lip, looking back down at her sewing. Theodore was entirely silent for the rest of the trip.

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The daylight was lasting longer in Deception Bay. The snow was slowly leaving in slushy messes, though no one was hopefully enough to think that the last of the winter storms had passed. Still, the residents of the small village by the Bay were already starting in on spring adjustments…or they were supposed to be, anyway. Justin and Sally had gone out to knock the ice off of the eaves, but that had just dissolved into a snowball fight, which had dissolved into snogging in a snow bank.

"Glad to see we're being productive," Megan said brightly, as Wayne picked up a discarded shovel and poked Justin's boot as they passed. Justin and Sally sat up quickly, Sally brushing snow out of her long brown hair,

"Give us a break; we've been inside for months," Justin laughed, as Zach pelted him upside the head with a slush-ball, "Hey!"

"Hand slipped," Zach said innocently, taking up the other shovel and going to help Megan and Wayne finish knocking down the ice from the roof. Of course, this too turned out to be futile, as soon there was yet another snow battle in progress.

Watching from the house, Hestia shook her head, tucking reddish brown hair out of her eyes, "They amaze me," She murmured, observing the epic battle of flying snow and slush. At the table behind her, Sturgis was rereading the letter from Bill that had been sent from Michael's flat, "Rightly they should be dead of boredom by now," Hestia sighed, "How long are we going to do this, Sturgis?"

"Well if this is any clue," He set aside the letter, which was little more than a description of their well-being, well-hexed to the two of them, "Returning to civilization would not be doing them any favors…"

"I know, but…" Hestia trailed off. Sturgis watched her for a moment, before standing up and crossing over to stand behind her, resting his hand on her shoulders,

"Megan is the only one of them with an acceptable bloodline, Hes," He reminded her softly. They'd had this conversation before, many times, ever since Severus had told Hestia what he had. Theoretically yes, they could swear themselves over…and the only ones who would be allowed to live would be her and her family. But now, Hestia seemed to be thinking things over from a different angle.

"But we do have Michael Corner…" She shook her head, "I don't even know where my head is going, Sturgis. But I do know that this just isn't fair to them…"

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Those who'd been among Voldemort's ranks before his victory were all to spend the following weeks in Devonshire, situated in a very old, gated community of 18th Century summer estates and cottages. Once upon a time, it had been a muggle neighborhood for old blue blood. Now it was a holiday retreat for a collection of murderers, at the generosity of Lord Voldemort.

The snow was gone from all but the most shadowed of places, the rolling hills and scattered woods were soggy and green underfoot. Stepping out of the Thestral-drawn carriage that had borne them hence from the train station that afternoon, Luna took a deep breath of the fresh, earthy, English spring air, shutting her eyes. For a moment, all was as it had been a year and another life ago. She was on the banks of the Otter River again outside of her house, while her father started turning the earth in the vegetable garden. Upon opening her eyes of course, Luna remembered where she was, and let out a small sigh. Still, the large stone cottage before her was very pleasant, with the hint of flower vines clinging to its walls. Smiling just slightly, she went inside.

It wasn't exactly a warm evening by any means, but that awoken, alive scent of broken winter was still on the air. As such, Luna had the antique (and rather neglected) bedroom windows all open to the soft breeze. It was doing wonders for her physical health, as she'd been rather ill and aching for most of the trip. Now, having finished putting away her clothes in the large, sparsely furnished room, Luna paced in her bare feet across the hardwood floors, swinging her arms back and forth and wondering where Theodore was as she enjoyed the fresh, cool air.

He returned in a rather stormy flourish of black robes and heavy footsteps, entering the room rather abruptly. Luna stopped her pacing to greet him, her normally pale face looking for once a healthy color. He did not seem to see her at first though, distracted as he seemed to be. Stopping in front of him, Luna frowned, "What is wrong?"

"It's freezing in here," He mumbled, making his way past her and toward the window, "Why are these open?" He asked, his voice harsh. Luna opened her mouth to answer, as he slammed it down roughly, "You'll be sick."

"I…I just wanted a bit of fresh air in here," She replied in a small voice, her eyes fixed on the back of his shoulders as they moved up and down with his breathing. When she had spoken, however, his breath seemed to slowly become even again, as he stared out over the countryside dotted with lighted houses. Luna crossed her arms across herself, making herself small, "…Where were you?"

"With my father," Theodore replied in a low, bothered tone, his fingernails digging into the windowsill just slightly, "He wanted me to…meet my future step-mother," He hissed, pushing away from the window and turning around, looming over her with set jaw and stormy glare. Luna took one small step backwards, and at that, Theodore paused, his eyes seeming to soften. He gave one short, mirthless smile, shaking his head, "I despise the man, Luna," He whispered, "I would see him dead if I could, without evoking our Lord's anger."

Luna let out a long breath, shutting her eyes. He was not angry at her or at the windows. She took a few steps toward him, reaching out and touching his arm with a light, delicately white hand, "I know," She replied softly, thinking of the poor girl who would be pawned off to her father-in-law. Theodore grabbed her wrists, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers, his eyes boring into hers as if he were trying to force their thoughts to meld,

"I took you away from him," He whispered roughly, and Luna had to shut her eyes, "And now he thinks he will somehow own again what's inside of you. I swear Luna, as much as I will help it he won't see his grandchildren," Pulling her even closer, he let out a long breath, "Calista swore the same…it was all we could do to keep standing there, in that room…" Calming, he pulled back slightly, loosening his iron grip on her wrists, "…the windows?"

"I told you," She whispered back, eyes on the floor, "Fresh air…it is good for me…the three of us…"

"You'll freeze," Theodore murmured, backing her slowly against one of the bed posts, moving a hand to her waist and dragging his lips across her neck. Luna sighed, rolling her head back and shutting her eyes. She'd grown accustomed to this by then. If he needed an outlet for his aggression, Luna would always comply. Splaying a hand against her ever so slightly rounded belly, he tilted his head, whispering in her ear, "I refuse to let anything else have you,"

Luna was unable to keep the thought from crossing her mind, that she had indeed almost left him, for all of five seconds. Instead she gently pulled her wrists from his grasp, and slipped her arms around his waist.

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Meanwhile, that night in London in a flat outside of Diagon Alley, things were far less refined. Boredom had set in, as well as listlessness and general bohemian-esque behavior, which manifested itself in sleeping on floors and living on very little food and quite a lot of tea. Stephen was sitting on his makeshift bed of blankets and looted pillows, reading that day's Daily Prophet for the sixth time. He had read the paper every day since they'd arrived, and was still trying to comprehend that yes, updated Death lists, auctions of fine muggle furniture and buildings for rent that had finally been cleaned of blood and spell scoring had become the norm.

Michael had come home from work and promptly fallen asleep. He'd been working extra long hours at The Ministry, as many of the higher-ups were away for Voldemort's weeks of revelry. While his guests found moments during which all was light-hearted, considering, Michael was always nervous and twitching, glancing out the windows and over his shoulder wherever he went and exhausting himself in the process. When he'd come home that night, he'd seen Alicia sitting in the window, dressed in tank top and pj-bottoms, painting her toenails. Michael had stopped short on the way to his room, staring at the bottle of bright turquoise nail polish for a moment,

"That's new," He said tensely, and Alicia blinked,

"Yes…?"

"You went looting?" He took a deep breath, "I told you, let me do the looting, there are…PEOPLE down there…"

"You never pick up the girly things!" Alicia protested, "And I think I can take care of myself around…PEOPLE. I fend off leering Quidditch players daily," Throwing up his hands; Michael had left the room and gone to crash in his corner, pulling the curtains that divided the section from the rest of the room. Alicia just shook her head. From his spot nearby on the floor, Bill looked up from the book he was reading (or not reading, as his thoughts kept wandering to the days to come),

"Isn't it a serious crime to touch someone else's wife?" He asked quietly. Alicia gave a short, mirthless laugh, sticking out her foot to inspect her toes,

"Yeah," She smirked, scooting off of the windowsill to sit next to him on the floor, "And the poorer you are, the less illegal it gets. Still, Mikey IS moving up in the Ministry, so it's getting better."

"You know," Bill tilted his head, not quite looking at her, "I've been watching you two for a week," He grinned, "It is officially the strangest relationship I have ever seen."

Alicia somehow found this exceedingly funny. Probably because she'd thought it a million times before, and there'd been little chance to laugh about it, "It is, isn't it?" She giggled, "I don't think I'd spoken to him in my life before the day he found me, save maybe while jeering before a match back in school," Reaching up and running a hand through her wavy hair, she shook her head, "He found me hiding out in my flat, though. Remembered me, for whatever reason. He had one chance to save some poor girl and fix the paperwork, and he decided it was me," She sighed, "We have completely opposing personalities, but the fact that I need him to stay alive, and he needs someone who still has a soul to keep him sane makes things…work."

"Touching," Bill nodded once, resting his head against the wall. His eyes drifted to her small feet, and the brilliant shade of green on her toes. He'd seen the shade before on a human being, though that time it had been atop their head. It was an endearing color, really, "Where did you get that?"

"A small town house, not far from here," Alicia said softy, leaning forward and blowing on the appendages lightly, "It's been sitting empty for months now…there was a young married muggle couple who lived there," She smirked, "Mummy and Daddy paid for it, clearly. The girl had some beautiful things…" Her voice faded a bit. It still hadn't become easy to think about people as long-gone creatures. She took a deep breath, drawing up her shoulders and forcing a smile, "Luckily for my conscience, she was a tall stick insect and none of her clothes fit me,"

"Stick insects are highly overrated," Bill replied, catching her mood. Alicia turned her head, looking at him for a moment or two, trying to remember what the girl he'd married had looked like. Tonks had been very pretty, Alicia recalled, with moppy, mood-ring hair and a healthy build. The last time Alicia had seen her, it had been at Ron Weasley's 18th birthday party. Tonks had been quite pregnant…this was just Alicia's luck, of course. Even after the end of the world, she found herself attracted to the bloke most likely to be bad for her health, with legitimate baggage and well-founded angst. But why break form now? She reached over and upwards, flicking the hair out of his eyes,

"When I cut your hair," She said calmly, as if speaking to a child, "I did not intend for it to cover your face, leaving the pretty Weasley-boy eyes hidden from sight."

"Apologies," Bill smiled, a smile that actually reached his eyes. Alicia couldn't help but grin back,

"See? It's a crime to keep those hidden," She murmured, biting her lip slightly as her hand hovered near his face. His smile faded slowly, and that darkness that had been there for so long began to creep back into his eyes. And it almost made her catch her breath…here was a man who truly did know pain. Actual, gut-wrenching pain that was aware in everything he did…but he was still looking at her.

George dropping a box of tea in the kitchen area startled both of them back to earth, in a moment so like to one of the muggle films Alicia had been so fond of long ago, it made her laugh slightly, shaking her head. Bill mirrored the action, running a hand over his chin, "It's late," He said quietly, smirking at her, "I think I'll crash now…" But he didn't move. He kept looking at her.

"Yeah I…should too," Alicia said, also not moving. But those eyes…she stood up quickly, shaking her feet one at a time to dry the polish, "I'll see you lot in the morning!" And with that, she hurried off to the corner opposite Michael's, pulling back her own makeshift curtain and falling onto her bed.

She would lie awake on that bed for a long time though, watching the dim light of the night sky cast a glow against the white sheet walls of her 'room' and listening to the gentle hum of heavy, sleepy breathing, until it lulled her to sleep…a sleep which only lasted until Stephen started snoring, per usual, and Alicia was forced to try and sleep with a pillow over her head.

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**Author's Notes: **Took a bit longer, yes. And it is a bit calm, yes. But lots of foreshadowing, oh yes, taste my not-so-cryptic crypticness! Coming soon! Orla and Bast, Severus Snape, and Miss Ginny.  



	11. Various Forms Of Dulcinea

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Various Forms of Dulcinea

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the scepter, learning, physic, must  
all follow this and come to dust.

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It was April 1st, 1999. Ginny Weasley sucked in a breath, sitting up straight so that the cinch she was wearing wouldn't poke her in odd places. She was sitting inside of the cold, windowless carriage that had stopped outside of her house in Little Hangleton that evening, after she'd been poked, prodded and laced up by two women in black robes, their faces covered. She touched her face…it had been a long time since she'd worn any sort of makeup. Now Ginny found herself done up like Anna Karenina, her hair lightened and her face painted pale and icy. She wondered how likely it would be for there to be a train nearby that she could throw herself under.

The door opened at last, after the carriage had been motionless for nearly half an hour. A masked footman was there to offer a hand down, which Ginny took, landing on the ground silently, straightening her ample skirts and long brown fur cape. Glancing about, she was met with tall black iron fences, groomed grounds, and a short path leading into a large marble hall, lit by lanterns and moonlight. For a brief moment, Ginny want to run. Even if it was to nowhere, she could have run. Instead, she took the white eye-mask the footman handed her numbly, placing at on her face and allowing herself to be led inside…

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After a week and a half of enjoying the slowly melting countryside, and avoiding various insufferable family members, the younger Notts and Lestranges found themselves readying for the main event, Voldemort's week-long Masquerade. Every night was given a theme, from Death and Madness to Magical Creatures. The first night was to be literary characters. Of course, no distinction was to be made over author bloodlines, because as of then, all written work was considered owned by those in command of the world.

"I look like a blue cup-cake," Orla pointed out loudly, as she stood in front of her bedroom mirror, inspecting the whipped dusty satin confection she was wearing.

"Well, you are the one who made it," A voice reminded her from another room somewhere behind her. She made a face at the rather snarky mirror, who kept expounding upon what a lovely little girl she was.

"Yes," She called back evenly, straightening the sash and tying her long, dark blue cloak over the slate-colored, shimmering dress, "And you are the one who suggested Alice in Wonderland,"

"Surely, you do realize how lovely you look," Rabastan let out a long, dramatic sigh as he stepped into the room, dressed head to toe as The White Knight, complete with sword, breast-plate and checkerboard cape. Over all, he pulled on a black cloak and matching black eye mask, "My Lady Liddell?"

"Very funny," Orla tried to stay annoyed, but could not. She smiled, blushing just slightly. He still had that effect, of course, even after they'd been together a year. Looking down, she smoothed the front of her gown down, from empire waistline to sea-colored skirt, "Do I really look all right?" She asked in a wavering voice, looking up at him with nervous eyes. Rabastan walked over to her, pretending to look her over closely, taking her hand and spinning her around, and poking the small blue bow in her hair,

"Beautiful," He assured her, "Alice grown up," He pulled her toward him, kissing her softly. Orla grinned, still pinkish, putting on her white eye-mask, decorated with blue flowers,

"That is what we were going for," She spun away from him then, toward the nursery, "Now, I only need to put ears on our Door Mouse child, and we can be off!" That certainly sounded far more enthusiastic than she felt about spending an evening in the company of Lord Voldemort…

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The seven nights of festivities were to take place at a large stone hall nearby, which looked like some nobleman of old's castle. There was something…not entirely earthly about the place, with its high iron gates, towering marble walls and pillars, and glowing lamps. That and the fact that no one seemed able to see it in the daylight made Luna wonder whether or not it was actually there.

Joining the crowd of gathering players outside, Orla and Rabastan led their small party through the gates and up the walkway bordered with lanterns, each of which caged a glowing faery. The pair was Alice and The White Knight, and Orla pushed their Door Mouse Oubliette in an ornate, glass paned carriage piled with blankets. Just behind them, Theodore and Luna walked together as Dante and Beatrice. Luna had curled her hair slightly, and fashioned a white dress that looked somewhat medieval, with a silver mask and red flowers in her hair, while Theodore was all in red and black, a large book under his arm and a horned, black mask covering most of his face. Luna wondered if he wasn't enjoying said mask just a bit too much, scowling dramatically at other Death Eaters as they passed.

"Dante went _into_ the Inferno," She reminded him quietly as they passed between the pillars and under the looming ceilings of the large building, her filmy dress swishing around her ankles, her sandaled feet whispering on the smooth stone, "He was not _actually_ the Devil."

"Come now," Theodore replied just as quietly with a flourish of his black cape, as Bellatrix and Rodolphus passed them dressed as Roderick and Madeline Usher, "I have the look of one who has seen The Inferno, do I not?"

"I believe we all do," Luna sucked in her breath as they walked into the main hall, taking in the walls draped in black and silver and green, the greenish glowing lights hanging high above their heads, from a ceiling strewn with shadowy paintings. Servers dressed in black robes with black veils over their faces were moving between masked guests, serving wine and entrees as the Death Eaters laughed, whispered and scowled at each other in turn. And at the head of the room, on a raised dais, was a large empty seat, draped in black and green.

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Orla meandered through the party slowly, pushing Oubliette's carriage and watching the crowd of players while Rabastan conversed with his peers. He always said she wouldn't enjoy such conversations…that they were dull and task-related. And so she amused herself with studying the characters around her.

Resting by one of the balconies that looked out over the gardens and grounds surrounding the hall, Orla took Oubliette in her arms, to give the baby her bottle. She wondered where Luna was at the moment. The older girl tended to stay by Theodore's side, even when he was caught up in conversation. Orla had asked Luna why she did so, many times, but all Luna was ever able to say was that it was better to listen first hand than to hear second hand…whatever that meant. Orla was soon to find out.

"Oh this is simply divine," An airy, high voice said nearby. Orla looked up from her baby, as Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix stepped out onto the balcony as well. It was odd, seeing her sister-in-law with her hair charmed white as Madeline Usher, but it certainly made her no less unsettling. Narcissa looked as if she'd stepped out of a muggle fairytale, in blue ball gown and matching eye mask. She was the one who'd spoken, and who was still laughing gaily, "This, this is what I have been looking forward to all these years! Parties among respectable folk again! As it was when we were girls…"

"You've been at the elven wine a bit early," Bellatrix pointed out with a stinging smile. At catching notice of Rabastan's wife, that smile went perfectly wolfish, "Ah, Orla...and dear little Oubliette, how sweet of you to bring her!"

"She's my Door Mouse," Orla said quietly, holding her daughter closer. Bellatrix laughed, looking back at her sister,

"See Narcissa? He doesn't even attempt to hide it," Bellatrix gave Orla a rather patronizing smirk, as Narcissa coughed lightly, "And Rabastan is the White Knight? My dear, you do know you are married to an entirely perverted fellow? Now granted, his big brother is no better, but I would hardly think such would be your cup of tea…"

"Bellatrix, you always say these things," Orla sighed, for once not pretending to be fed up with the older woman, "You hint and you sneer and you express your general dislike for me, which I understand, but you never actually…SAY anything."

"My gods," Narcissa hiccupped, "Bella, I think she actually has a backbone!"

"Only because he keeps her locked in that glass cage in Salem," Bellatrix sneered, staring down at Orla, "Fine then, brat. Your husband clearly has a demented fixation with young girls. I give him a few years before he tires of you, once you finish growing up."

Orla stood up, taking a deep breath as she set the appeased Oubliette back in her glass carriage, "Is that all?" She asked primly, working to keep her voice unaffected, "Because I have heard it plenty of times," She looked back up, meeting Bellatrix's eyes steadily, "He loves me, and plans on doing so for quite a long time. So…I don't know why you are bothering telling me such things."

"Because you are blind, girl," Bellatrix said softly, reaching out and touching the edge of Oubliette's buggy, "Your husband has been going out and killing…getting blood under his fingernails, while muggle screams fill his ears…and coming home to his child wife…" She trailed off, reaching up and touching the bow in Orla's hair. The girl took a step back, biting her lip, "Whom he shelters from all unpleasantness…remember that time he and Antonin transfigured furniture into muggle food? And then when it changed back after they'd eaten it…"

"Stop," Narcissa sighed, wincing and touching her temples, "Can't you find any better sport, Bella? She's no threat to you anymore, after all…"

Bellatrix gave her sister a look that might have frozen hell, and Orla lifted her chin, squaring her shoulders, "I…I'm going now," She said softly, her voice shaking. Bellatrix turned and watched her as she left the balcony swiftly, pushing the baby carriage ahead of her and feeling a bit sick.

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Luna was still at Theodore's side, as he listened to the various accounts of Blaise Zabini, Serena Roper and Vincent Crabbe's Extermination posts in China. Luna was used to these conversations, and used to tuning them out. Theodore rarely contributed to the chatter, he only listened and watched, while his wife let her eyes wander through the crowd. Now and then, her gaze drifted up to the head of the room, wondering when The Dark Lord would make his appearance. They had nearly been there an hour already…

Catching sight of a familiar face over Theodore's shoulder, Luna tilted her head, tucking her curled hair out of her eyes and dropping her mask slightly. She felt a bit cold in the pit of her stomach, as Su Li Zhen passed by, on the arm of a rather tall Chinese fellow Luna recognized from a gathering of Death Eaters at Nott Manor, months and months ago. The pair were caught up on conversation with Draco Malfoy (dressed quite pompously as Hamlet), and as the two men spoke, Li also scanned the crowd, her gaze meeting Luna's. The two girls and former Housemates regarded each other in a moment of mutual surprise, before Li's eyes quickly went cold, her face positively icy.

"Good evening, Mrs. Nott," Li said as she approached, smiling tersely behind her white, doll-like mask. Luna looked back at her, taking in her blue silk robes and ornate paper fan. Drawing herself up to her full height, which was a bit taller than most women, Luna nodded,

"Hullo Li," She greeted civilly as the conversation to her left continued, though Theodore now had his eyes fixed on the two girls to his right, "I see you've been well…"

"And I see you've been alive," Li smiled coolly, turning her head to look at Theodore, "Thanks to dear Theodore here…"

"Li," He said quietly, fixing her with a steady stare behind his mask, "Congratulations are in order, I hear,"

"For you as well!" Li glanced back at Luna, looking her over as if she were wall-paper, "And here I was, thinking you had no interest in long-term relations, Theodore," She looked back at Theodore sharply, narrowing her eyes, "Apparently, that only counts when the female in question has a backbone?" Looking at Luna again, she smirked, "I'm sure this one would go along with anything…"

"…And you wanted to stay in London, instead of waiting while I did my Lord's bidding in Salem," Theodore reminded her coolly. Li pressed her lips together, glaring at him for a moment, before glancing at her husband, who had just noticed her missing from his side. He looked back at her, standing with Theodore Nott, and his gaze as well seemed a bit chilly. Li looked at Theodore and Luna once more over her shoulder, as she made to leave,

"He's pretty, isn't he?" She directed at Luna lightly, whilst glaring at Theodore, "For your sake, I do hope he doesn't get tired of you…" And she walked away. Theodore stared after her, and Luna looked down, slowing her breathing. One of the red flowers in her hair started to fall down to her brow, and she reached up to tuck it back, only to find Theodore's hand already there.

"…She's always so beautiful…" Luna said distantly, as he tucked the blood-colored blossom back into her curls.

"She is," He nodded, running the back of his hand along the side of her face, holding her gaze steadily. Luna bit her lip, looking back at him…

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"The Dark Lord has arrived!" A voice called out, and all eyes were drawn to the head of the room. The candles went lower, and the murmuring in the hall quieted. Behind the tall seat raised on the dais, two tall iron doors opened, and every lantern in the great room flickered. Luna had to say, this was far more theatrical than any night Voldemort had spent at Nott Manor. He entered in a gust of ice cold wind, his fine black robes billowing out behind him. His face was covered by a black mask, his red eyes glowing out from under his hood. His followers greeted him with a darkly echoing applause, and he spread his arms wide in greeting, the torches burning suddenly brighter,

"My Faithful!" Voldemort called out to those gathered, his voice seeming to come from all corners of the marble palace, "The long-awaited days are upon us, the days of our absolute rule!" Again, applause greeted his haunting voice. Bellatrix even raised her wine goblet in rapturous salute, "The evening following tomorrow will mark the one year point of my Victory!" He paused as the praise continued, Draco Malfoy letting out an uncouth whoop. Luna was rather stoic of course, slapping her gloved hands together in a whisper, "This week, I will display to all the spoils of our swift and successful War and The Great Extermination! Beginning with the choicest!"

Voldemort surveyed those before him in a long, dramatic gesture, before turning, and raising a hand to the open doors behind him. After a moment, a pale figure shone in the doorway, a light spring snow beginning to fall behind her in the darkness. She was all light where Voldemort was dark, dressed in a pale rose gown and white corset, her titian hair lightened and piled atop her head in a wreath of roses. Her small form looked positively tiny alongside The Dark Lord's, her hands small and white and her face ghostly behind her eye mask. She walked and walked until she stood at Voldemort's side, staring straight ahead, blankly, seeming to be as a living statue of Tolstoy's ill-fated Anna.

All who saw her murmured gaily amongst themselves, while some gave approving shouts and others worrisome glares. As Voldemort sat, Luna fancied that only she (and perhaps Orla, wherever she and Rabastan were) had a saddened, pitying look on her face…a look that did not change, not until the girl moved her head of her own free will, scanning the crowd until she caught Luna's eye, making the former Ravenclaw gasp. It was Ginny, and she was not bewitched.

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**Author's Notes: **I am still here! And still writing! And hey, if you want to read HAPPY fanfic, go check out my best friend denajane and her work...to read the documented history of Ernie and Luna he he. More to come! Snape was supposed to be in this chapter. He shall be in the next. 


	12. Rising Tempo

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Rising Tempo

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Minds that have to whisper  
See in them a sister

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Luna fancied that plenty of her peers enjoyed their long nights of revelry. They enjoyed drinking and dancing and being hurled about in Voldemort's gathering. Luna felt more as if she were watching from the corners, swept along until the composition stopped, Ginny slipped away, and Theodore pulled her back into the night, while the Death Eaters reveled on.

The next morning was cool outside of her windows, a fog settling thick and white through the trees and over the green grass, where the snow from the night before had swiftly melted. Luna found herself awake quiet early, opening her eyes and wondering what was different about this morning. The sound of birds whistling to each other answered her question. She smiled softly into her pillow. Even after such a troubling evening, simple things could touch her heart.

Disentangling herself from Theodore's arms, Luna rose from their bed, pulling one of her long robes over her shoulders and leaving the room. Padding down the old, splintery stairs of the stone cottage, she made her way to the front door, slipping on a pair of shoes and walking out onto the frosty grass.

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Bill didn't quite know what he was doing back in Devonshire. He knew he was going to scope out the area, get a feel for the wards and decide what to do from there. However, cover was sparse. The patches of forest surrounding the village were thin, and every cottage and house had windows all around. Perhaps he had been a little rash in his actions. But when Michael had come home late the previous night, talking about the buzz the ministry over the girl Voldemort had on display at his gatherings, Bill had been moved to act. Thus, he'd left at dawn with, surprisingly, Alicia close at his heels.

They were currently standing in a small copse of trees near a small stream, watching one of the large stone cottages closely. Outside a carriage was parked, bearing the Nott family seal, and Bill fancied that if he could somehow get a message to Luna, he might have more of an idea of what to do next. The only question was how to do so without any of her in-laws finding out…

Luck was him though, it seemed. Hearing a door open, Bill looked up towards the cottage from his spot among the trees, covered in his black cloak. Luna rounded a corner of the house, the fog breaking around her as she swept across the grass in her white house robe. She stopped some yards away from where he stood, at the edge of the thawing stream, folding her arms against her chest and tipping her chin down, to watch the water and ice flow past her feet.

"Luna?" Bill said softly, cautiously taking a small step out from under the trees. Luna's head shot up, her eyes wide as she heard his familiar voice. She hurried into the shadows under the trees beside him, glancing back at the house anxiously,

"What are you doing here!" She hissed, pulling the hood of her white robe up over her head and looking up at him incredulously, "By Elgi, you will get yourself killed!"

"Luna, I know she is here," Bill said simply, looking back down at her. Over his shoulder, Luna saw the shorter figure of Alicia standing behind him, further into the shadows. Luna sighed, shutting her eyes and shaking her head. Merlin, what would Theodore do if he saw her? She glanced back at the house, and back at Ginny's brother,

"What do you want from me?" She asked in a whisper, looking down at her feet. Bill looked at her for a moment, before reaching into his pocket and pulling something out, pressing it into her hands. Luna opened her palms, finding a pair of old knitting needles, with flowers painted on them. She sucked in a long breath, looking up at him again, her eyes watery. Bill returned her gaze almost desperately,

"I need to know everything," He replied, "I need to know what that hall looks like, if she's safe, or hurt, or…"

Luna nodded, slowly. And she told him everything she knew.

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That night, they once again entered the Great Hall, and once again the gathering players were a spectacle to behold. However, as they walked over the ground toward the Hall, Luna couldn't help but wonder if the walls shivered just slightly, as figures in black cloaks and white masks lingered in the shadows. Not that such individuals were out of the ordinary of course, but Luna suspected they had not been invited...

The evening was much like the one before it, only now with the crown jewels of Brittan on display, and the players were dressed as Magical Creatures in masks, and there were more of them. Fleur and Viktor Krum had arrived that morning, the two old acquaintances having both hurried to look the other up when Voldemort's laws went into effect the previous year. Of all the people Luna imagined herself never having a pleasant conversation with, Fleur was certainly high on the list, but there they were. The half-Veela was dressed as…well, a full-Veela, and Luna wore long shimmering scarves as a dress and in her hair flowing down to her feet, as a masked mermaid.

Somewhere in the crowd, Orla was wandering about as a Kneazle, with a cat-like mask and long fur cape. However, whenever Luna glanced over at Theodore and Rabastan across the smooth floor and swinging green lanterns, her young friend was nowhere to be seen. Orla had been distant all day in fact, hardly saying a word to either her friend or her husband. In fact, Bast seemed to be the one Orla was avoiding the most. The Death Eater said nothing in their present company, but Luna did not miss the rather unsettled glances he was giving his wife when she was in view, or the hard stares he directed at Bellatrix when she walked by, smiling like a cat.

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"He's letting her walk about!" Fleur whispered at one point, nodding to the head of the room. Voldemort was deep in conversation with Rodolphus and Antonin, and Ginny had been allowed to wander the crowd nearby, dressed up as a Raven. Her dress was black and there were black feathers in her hair and on her mask, behind which she was trying to catch Luna's eye.

"I will be back," Luna told Fleur, and slipped away towards the head of the room. Ginny moved toward her, but subtly, so as not to bring her Master's attention. But The Dark Lord was confidant in his control over this prize.

"Whisper," Ginny hissed softly in Luna's ear when the tall girl embraced her best friend briefly, scarves and feathers brushing.

"I'm used to it," Luna whispered back, seeming to any outsider to be impassive behind her mask, and Ginny looked much the same behind hers. But the two friends knew each other well. And they knew much had changed in those eyes, since the last time they'd been able to talk freely.

"Are you all right?" Was Ginny's first question, keeping her body language cool and composed. Luna in turn played with one of the scarves in her hair boredly, while a few others glanced their way.

"I am very well," Luna said in a normal tone, as such a conversation was, on the surface, harmless enough, "I'm expecting…twins,"

"Really?" Ginny gave her friend a ghost of a smile, which made Luna's heart hurt a bit.

"Really," Luna swallowed, "Ginny I…I miss you so much,"

"I…have to go," Ginny whispered, feeling eyes fixed on the back of her skull. Glancing over her friend's shoulder, Luna spotted The Dark Lord watching them as well. She nodded, reaching out and giving her friend an embrace,

"All will be right again soon," She whispered in Ginny's ear hastily, before stepping away. Ginny gave her a long look, that was both hopeful and disbelieving at the same time, before she went back to stand at Voldemort's side. Luna had always said things like that in the old days, when the papers were filled with names they knew, and when Ginny's father had died at the train station. All will be right again…and somehow, as she always did, Ginny believed her.

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**Author's Notes: **Right then, this chapter was driving me up the wall. I have this delicate plan of events in my head, and they just didn't want to all fit in one chapter, lol. Thus, this chapter is short, and moving toward the next one, which is far more plotful and eventful, yes. Anywhoo, I am coming out of a bit of a slump in my personal life, which is why chapters are slow. But now that this bugger is out of the way, I can finally get to the finale, which is pretty much writing itself! 

Thanks so much for all the support and reviews folks, it makes writing this far more enjoyable, knowing that other people are enjoying it.


	13. Family

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No matter where you go,  
I will find you  
If it takes a long, long time...

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On the third of April, one year after she'd woken up to a seemingly normal day of school in Ravenclaw tower, Orla Quirke was pushing Oubliette in her carriage through the village. It was an unseasonably warm day, and she knew the baby would like the fresh air. Plus, she...as well as many others who'd survived...wanted the time to herself to think. Also, Rabastan kept looking at her as if he wanted to talk. As if he knew what was going through her mind. Orla wasn't quite ready for that yet.

As she walked through the cloudy, breezy spring morning, Orla was so caught up in her own meandering thoughts that she almost missed the cloaked figures standing off under the cover of a small patch of trees near her cottage. A sudden movement caught her eye though, and Orla glanced their way, catching sight of fluttering black robes and shadows under the willows.

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That afternoon, there was a conference going on at Alicia and Michael's kitchen table. Bill was speaking in a low voice, still wearing his black cloak, with the hood tossed back. The late-day sun was hazy behind the shaded windows, shining through dripping eaves, and were things different those within might have thought the quiet city quite beautiful. As it was, they were too wrapped up in what was to happen that night.

"You're nuts," Michael sighed, though it was in a rather complimentary manner. Resting his elbows on the table, he glanced over at Stephen, "And I take it you'll be going with these two Weasley lunatics?"

"Suppose I will be," Stephen smirked. George slapped his shoulder,

"Good man," He said heartily, while Bill gave them both a serious look,

"Yeah well," He cleared his throat, "After I've got Ginny, you two will be going straight back to Hogwarts. In fact, the less you two are seen with me the better. Once I've got her, they'll be on my tail. And you two still have stuff to go back to..."

"Stuff, he says," George sighed, nudging Stephen, "I'm going to tell Katie and Morag that they're 'stuff' to you, Bill..."

"Where are you taking her?" Alicia asked softly. Bill glanced over at her, his eyes lingering for a moment on her serious, pixie-like face, before he looked back down at the table,

"Well," He took a deep breath, "If everything goes correctly, we'll have some time before she's noticed missing. I'm taking her to this...place...Hagrid told me about, and then we'll be getting as far away from England as I can, as fast as I can," He gave a short laugh, sitting back in his chair, "Oh Merlin, I am nuts..." He stood up, shedding the black cloak and walking over to the muggle icebox for a Butterbeer. Alicia watched him, biting her lip,

"I want to go with you," She blurted out, causing him to pause mid-swig. From the table, the other three young men just stared, "I mean...well yeah, that's pretty much what I mean."

"I stand corrected," Bill said slowly, lowering the drink from his lips, "I might be nuts, but you're insane." Alicia bit her lip, crossing her arms, trying to come up with something to follow that moment of impulsiveness,

"I want to help you," She said finally, looking him in the eye, "And I...I can't stay here. It's killing me," Looking back at Michael, she directed at him, "I'm so thankful for what you've done for me Mikey, I really am, more than you know, but," She looked back at Bill, "We all know this isn't the way things are supposed to be."

"So go with George and Stephen," Bill said in a low voice, sighing, "Alicia, in a few hours, I am going to be the most wanted man around, you don't want to be seen with me anywhere..."

"Flattering yourself, aren't you?" George cracked, and Bill gave him a look, while Alicia just shook her head,

"Okay, clearly, you are not getting it," She huffed in annoyance, reaching over while he was distracted by George and grabbing Bill's collar, pulling him down to her eye-level, "I want to go with YOU, you great prat."

"...Oh," Bill blinked, only marginally aware of his brother snickering behind him. At the moment, he was too busy looking at the girl who had him by the collar of his shirt. Alicia took this as a good sign, standing on her tip-toes and kissing him firmly,

"So there!" She stated, letting go and standing back, her face burning. Bill just stared at her, seeming to forget the Butterbeer in his hand.

"Well!" Michael said brightly, once the silence had stretched on for a sizeable amount of time, "Seems my wife is cheating on me! Please, do take the floozy off of my hands..." Alicia stepped around Bill and smacked her roommate upside the head. Suddenly, everyone was in a lighter mood. Which was a good thing, as in a few hours; there was a chance that they all just might be dead. Michael began to talk about how to fix her paperwork, while George started plotting out their route to Voldemort's hall on the map they'd drawn up, and as he listened to them both, Bill rested his hands on Alicia's waist, his chin on her shoulder.

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"You've been troubled," Rabastan's voice cut through the hazy silence of their cottage's sitting room, while the setting sun cast a golden glow through the lingering fog outside. Orla looked up from where she sat, sewing a few final touches to her dress for that evening. She saw him and sighed, looking down again, as her fingers fumbled with the fabric. Bast crossed the room quickly, kneeling at her side and taking her hand, "You don't look me in the eye anymore," He said with a strained sort of intensity, which made the girl tentatively glance at him through her long, light brown curls, "Have I done something? What did my sister in law say to you? Because I know she said something!" He finished with a growl, directed at the absent Bellatrix.

Orla bit her lip, looking down at the yards of chiffon and satin in her lap, suddenly feeling like a little girl again, playing dress up and talking to strangers in journals, "...How many people have you killed?" She asked in a small voice. Rabastan stared at her for a moment, before standing, slowly.

"You needn't worry yourself with..."

"But I do!" Orla cut in, looking up at him again, her face holding that delicate tremble, of one about to cry, "Ever since she said those awful things I keep trying to go back to the way I was before and I just can't!" She wasn't going to cry. She wouldn't let herself cry. Bast looked at her for a long moment, as the very last thing he'd ever wanted to happen manifested itself before him. He had tried to keep her as something separate from what he did in Voldemort's name. But it seemed that such was no longer possible.

"Everyone I have killed," He said slowly, "And it is a large number...but all of them have been in The Dark Lord's name. It is my job," Bast looked at her, until she lifted her face to look back at him, "I'd never hurt you, though," He reached down, touching the side of her face lightly, tucking her hair back from her eyes, "I have...tried to keep you from all of that,"

"But I'm not a child," Orla said stubbornly, though by the way she was looking up at him, she looked more relieved than she sounded. She wanted to believe that he was a good person, she really did, but still, "I've had a baby, I'm not one anymore!" Swallowing nervously, she looked back down at her lap, suddenly reminded of...the other thing Bellatrix had said, "Will you still...want me, now that I'm growing up?"

Rabastan was at a loss, once again. Oh, he was going to kill Bellatrix. He didn't even want to know what she'd planted in Orla's brain, thought it was rather obvious. Sitting down on the seat next to her, he took her by the shoulders, looking her in the eye, speaking harshly, "Listen to me now, because I'm only going to say this once," Orla just looked at him, wide-eyed, nodding, "When I realized I was developing affections for a fourteen year old, I felt ill. I wanted to drive a metal spike through my own ear. But then I saw you," He trailed off, his jaw working for a moment as he looked at her, "And you've only grown more beautiful to me since, with every passing day,"

Orla blinked, very slowly. She opened her mouth once, and then closed it again. She wanted to cry again, but for an entirely different reason. As foolish as it might have seemed a few years ago, she felt safe again, "Well," She whispered, looking him in the eye, smiling a little even as a tear or two leaked out of her eyes, "When you put it that way..." Bast leaned forward, catching her lips and kissing her slowly, pulling her close to him. And Orla was neatly reminded of every good thing he'd ever done for her, from saving her brother too, to keeping her safe, to always being so tender with her...and she wondered why she'd ever listened to anything Bellatrix said to try and drive them apart. On the contrary...the relationship had just grown up a bit.

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The theme of that night was Death. It was perfectly fitting of course, being that this was the anniversary of the night so many had been slaughtered; the night that had started off the Great Exterminations and Blood Cleansing.. Luna could not help the memories that flooded her head that evening, while she drifted through the crowd at Theodore's side, the two of them dressed as Orpheus and Eurydice. Luna had thought her costume dreary enough, being draped in white with dead flowers in her hair, but clearly, Voldemort's more vocal and volatile followers were having a gay old time with such a theme. There were screaming Banshees and Hags, Black Angels and various demons. It was the kind of scene that would have made Poe long for a grassy meadow in the summer time.

Walking among the waving waifs and shadows, Luna thought it best to stay close to her husband's side, especially as Antonin Dolohov had been leering at her with increasing vigor the past few nights. Across the room, she noticed that Rabastan and Orla seemed to have come to an understanding, whatever was ailing her friend. In fact, Luna realized she'd rarely seen them so affectionate in public, as Orla was holding his hand and Bast kept her close to his side, no matter who he spoke to. They'd left the baby at home and wisely so...who knows, a few of those present might have eaten her or something. They'd also gone with the Mythological trend, being Hades and Persephone. There was a Myth for everything, after all...

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It hadn't been hard for Bill, Stephen and George to slip in with the crowd. Dressed in their cloaks and white, skull-like masks that had once been so prevalent, they were hardly given a second glance amid all the wild partying. The best elven wine had been saved for this night, and it was flowing freely, while music played and the soulless danced. The three silent intruders kept to the shadowed corners and walked along the walls, watching the revelry closely, until Voldemort's entrance was announced.

As Death Himself, Voldemort looked as he always did, though his robes for the night were new and fine. At his side though, a vision appeared, one that stopped Bill in his track and nearly made him call out and break his cover. Tonight she was dressed in white, her face painted white and her long red curls dusted with white, shimmering powder. Large metallic wings with real white feathers were attached to her back, with smaller versions on her feet and painted on her skin near her eyes. Ginny was dressed as the Seraphim, and it only highlighted how large The Dark One's ego had become. He thought himself a god.

From his place far in the corner, Bill stared at his sister, his heart breaking, even as he became more firm in his resolve. He glanced over at Stephen, who was closer to Luna, and nodded. Stephen nodded back, giving him a wry smirk that said he felt like he was suddenly in a muggle spy movie, before he moved toward Luna, whose husband had just walked away...

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"Don't look behind you," Luna heard the familiar voice over her shoulder, and all coherent thought left her for a moment,

"And to think I was once thought Loony," She murmured at last, sipping her water and looking around at the crowd, as Stephen chuckled behind her in his cloak,

"When he lets her walk around," He whispered behind his mask, while Luna glanced up at Ginny, who looked like she was already tired of hauling her wings about, "Escort her to the powder room. That's all. You can walk back in here, and nobody will think anything of it..."

"Thoughtful of you," Luna whispered, glancing over at where Theodore stood, talking with his father in no pleasant manner, "I love him, Stephen. And she is my best friend..."

"I know," Stephen said softly, touching her arm once before he slipped away, "Just bring her to the powder room..." Luna chanced a glance behind her, only to see a black cloak and white mask drifting away, to be lost in the swaying crowd.

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Ginny waited all night for the nod of her Master's head, which meant she could leave his side. It came while Bellatrix had his attention, ironically enough. Or at least, it felt like irony when she thought about it later. Lifting her liquid-like silk skirts, Ginny descended into the swirling, riotous crowd of black and grey and red, her wings offering her some clear path through the madness.

"Let's only talk a moment," Luna whispered, in a voice that was hard to hear over the din of the hall. Ginny nodded, though a look of confusion passed over her face, until her friend spoke in a normal tone that might be anyone's, "Merlin, I'm feeling faint..."

"...I would imagine so," Ginny took her lead, not quite sure why but still, trusting her friend with whatever this was, "What with your carrying two. This party must be exhausting..."

"It is," Luna sighed, shutting her eyes and staggering a bit on her feet. Voldemort's attention was caught briefly, by the sudden movement of the being nearby his winged prize,

"I say, let's get you to the powder room," Ginny murmured, genuinely worried for a moment. The Dark Lord watched as they made their way to the far corner of the room, and through the great side doors there, where many witches had been coming and going. He returned to his conversation, unconcerned with her. Besides, Severus was standing near those doors. A detail George Weasley failed to notice, as he followed the girls with Stephen...

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As soon as the doors closed behind them, Luna was walking normally again down the quiet, almost hazy hall. A witch was walking toward them also, with a slightly tipsy gait. Subtly, Luna pulled on Ginny's hand, indicating that she should keep walking, as Luna herself slipped into the powder room door to their right. Some time later, she would exit the room, and no one would think anything of it, until the following hour, when Ginny had still not returned from the hall. She would be questioned lightly, but, after all, a witness had seen her leave her friend waiting for her in the hall...

...But back to the events as they unfolded.

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Continuing her walk down the silent corridor lined with the soft glow of fairy lanterns, Ginny wondered what Luna had put her on, until she saw the tall, cloaked figure standing in the corner. His pale, skull-like mask looked left, and then right, before he pulled back his hood, letting his long red hair fall around his shoulders, which caused his sister to catch her breath, even before he removed his mask.

"Gin," Bill's voice was a hoarse croak, as he took a step toward his sister, who was all done up in trappings like someone's doll. Ginny took a step back, shaking her head,

"No, no, no, Bill's dead..." She stopped, when she realized she'd backed right into someone else's arms. Turning wildly, her wide eyes took in George, who'd also pulled back his hood and mask. And behind him, dimly, she was aware of Luna's old friend Stephen. Turning back to look at Bill, she took a few large steps closer to him, looking him in the eye with a rather wild look on her face. This had to be a trick! This had to be...she sucked in her breath. It was him. It was her brother.

"BILL!" She cried, grabbing him and wrapped her arms around his waist like a vice. Bill couldn't stop himself then. He buried a hand in his sister's stiff, powdered hair, pulling her close to his chest and sobbing against her. After everything, after all of the searching, he'd found her...

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"I'm sorry, am I interrupting the cozy family reunion?" A familiar, snarky voice stopped everyone in their tracks, smiles and tears frozen on their faces. Slowly, everyone looked up and turned, to see Severus Snape standing just inside the closed doorway, his wand out. Bill Weasley was at a complete loss. Snape, however, simply gave a rather long, annoyed sigh, turning around and casting a confundus charm on the hallways doors, to everyone's further shock. The old Potions Master glared at them all, "That will last a good while. Get your blood-traitor sister out of here Weasley, she's getting on my nerves," And with that, he left them.

The four intruders just looked at each other for a moment. Bill quickly regained his bearings, shaking his head at the fortunes of fate before passing his still-numb sister over to George and taking out his wand. Pointing it at the walls, he said a quick incantation, which signaled the wand of the person waiting outside to start blinking. It meant that they were ready.

When Alicia saw her wand glowing as she stood under the cover of the trees that bordered the grounds, she looked about. Waiting until a group of far-off revelers had gone back inside; she said the same incantation, signaling back to Bill. All was clear.

"Brilliant," Bill breathed, his adrenaline high now. All was going as planned and then some. Touching a place on the wall above their heads, he concentrated hard, whispering old spells he'd learned long ago, raiding tombs in Egypt. A space of the wall simply melted away, revealing the countryside under the moonlight. Ginny gasped, and Bill grinned at her, taking her hand, "These walls aren't real. They look grand...but they're only his illusion..." He said softly, pulling her out into the night, across the moonlit grass, the fog of their collective breath lifting above them into the starlight.

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**Author's Notes: ** Hee. I had stuff to say, but I am sick, so. Enjoy, and your reviews have all been faboo! 


	14. Primavera

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Primavera

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Fear no more the frown o' th' great;  
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke.

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The flat face of the cliff rose high above the sea, the ancient stone shining under the moonlight and the water was crashing and foaming below. Bare feet slapping against the smooth rock, Ginny followed the path she'd been directed on, sloping down and away from the cliff's edge, the sea roaring in her ears. The stone gave way to cool, green grass, far greener and softer than any she could remember feeling before. But then, perhaps she'd simply been in winter for too long.

Before she had climbed the hill to the cliff, she'd torn off those blasted wings, and dunked her hair and face briefly into the icy, salty ocean. Now, as she slipped under the cover of the Welsh forest, following the path directly forward as she'd been instructed, she looked like her old self nearly. Her red hair fell in damp waves that clung to her white dress, and her face was once again rosy and freckled.

Through the virgin, untouched undergrowth, a mist was forming, a mist that stopped Ginny in her tracks for a moment, bringing to mind far too many nights without end that she spent trapped by fog. But this mist was not the hard, cold mist of Little Hangleton. This mist wrapped itself around her ankles; both warm and cool at once, drawing her forward through the trees and brambles. She followed the path and the beaconing fog until she was led into a small clearing carpeted in the same soft, green grass that topped the hill, along with wild mint and heather. While the strange, misty fog lingered at the edges of the trees, above Ginny's head the sky was clear, clearer than any sky she had seen in her life (which logically, it should not have been, as the moon was out, but logic seemed to fade in this place). She felt as if, should she look hard enough, she would see all the way past the Earth's sky and into those beyond.

As she approached the middle of the clearing, thinking these thoughts and staring at the sky, she suddenly felt very drowsy, and her limbs were telling her that the ground looked especially comfortable. Tearing her eyes away from that brilliant, star-lit sky, Ginny looked down, to see an indent in the grass at her feet. Kneeling down, she touched the place briefly. Something...or someone...very small had once lain there. And she had an idea of who it had been. Apparently, time had no meaning there either.

Lying down on the feathery grass and sweet-smelling mint and purple heather, Ginny spread her arms out on the ground, staring up at the stars. A tingling sensation settled over her arms and legs, as the mist drifted over her. Far away, she felt that she could hear laughter, as if through a wall or across the grounds at school. A wonderful, dreamy feeling began to form inside of her, washing through her insides and causing a small smile to form on her face. Ginny shut her eyes, drifting off to sleep in the ring, her first sound, peaceful sleep in over a year...

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It was the second week of April before Michael Corner returned to work. Sitting down in his office with a heavy sigh, he shook his shoulders free of knots, rolled a quill between his hands, inked it, and dove right into the pile of parchment waiting in front of him. He'd only gotten through one list though, before there was a knock on his door,

"Come in," He sighed, not looking up. A rather pinched-looking old woman poked her head in, squinting at him over her thick glasses. Inwardly, Michael smirked. It was one of the secretaries from the Gobstone offices, who had nothing better to do those days than gossip,

"Just popping in for a moment, very busy you know," The woman sniffed, looking about the room, "Only wanted to offer my condolences on losing that pretty wife of yours," Michael cringed, which was good, as it came across as a pained expression, "Oh but perhaps it's too soon?"

"Yes, it is soon," Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair, "But she died doing our Lord's bidding, I know she would be proud..."

"Awfully brave of her," The woman sighed, clutching at where her heart supposedly was, "Jumping right on her broom as soon as the hunt started for that escaped girl. Pity about the tree!"

"Yes," Michael sighed, trying very hard not to smirk, as the woman left his office. He was suddenly reminded that he hadn't filed Alicia's forged papers away, and set about doing so, "Pity about that tree..."

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Directly following their escape from Voldemort's Gala, Stephen and George had hugged Bill, Ginny and Alicia, then taken a hastily-made portkey back to Michael's printing building and floo'd back to Hogsmeade. They were wise to work so quickly, as an hour later the floo network was back on full alert.

Running through the deserted village in the starlight, George let out a whoop, as his feet felt light and he knew they were safe again. Running behind him, Stephen also grinned, shaking his head, "Think they'll make it?" He called out, his voice echoing through the darkness and over the mountains.

"Course they will!" George called back, as they passed through the toppled, rusty gates of Hogwarts, "Ginny's as safe as she'll ever be with Billy-boy! He'll have her out of here..."

Hagrid had seen them coming through the gates, so that by the time the two young men returned all in the settlement were awake and ready for them. Katie was alternating between crying for joy and swearing at George for going off and almost getting himself killed. Hagrid kept asking where Bill was. Of course, it was George who had to explain everything that had happened, once things had calmed down and everyone was up and seated around the bonfire Flitwick had lit. Stephen found himself otherwise occupied.

"Never AGAIN," Morag was stating firmly, in a tone that allowed for no argument. She'd had Stephen in a bear hug since the moment he'd entered the forest, and while the rest of their party talked animatedly around the fire, Morag was now holding her old housemate prisoner against a pine tree, until he swore to her,

"Never again," He repeated, grinning down at her through his mop of brown hair. The intense look on Morag's face melted away slowly, while she moved closer and gave him a good long snog, reaching up and running her hands through that infuriating hair, something she'd wanted to do for years, but of course she would have died before admitting such in the old days.

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The following morning, Stephen rose with the sun, leaving the cold shack he'd settled in and wrapping himself up in the thick, winter coat he'd procured in London. It might have been springtime, but things were still frigid. Burying his hands in his pockets, he made his way through the forest in the grey light, until he left the trees behind him and was crossing the silent, over-grown school grounds. He kept on walking until he was standing before Dumbledore's tomb, which seemed to glow white in the morning light. The small crack still remained on the top, where Voldemort had tried to destroy it and failed.

Sitting down cross-legged on the smooth stone dais that the tomb was set upon, Stephen simply watched as the sun rose behind the white marble, lost in a jumble of thoughts and memories. He started slightly, when he felt someone's hands on his shoulders, until he glanced up, seeing blue eyes and short, choppy blonde hair.

"You're thinking," Morag said softly, sitting down behind him, and resting her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. Stephen smiled briefly. It certainly made them both a bit warmer.

"Yeah," He said softly, looking back at Dumbledore's tomb, "I don't know...I feel like..."

"You redeemed yourself?" He nodded. Morag smirked, "You're still such an idiot. You didn't do anything wrong, they made you," She turned her face, kissing the side of his neck lightly, "But I am glad you feel better."

"Oh I do," Stephen nodded, leaning back against her, "I do..."

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Deception Bay was officially melting. The higher points in the village were dry and grassy, while the shadowy, lower points were home to lonely, diminutive piles of slushy snow. The smoke rising from the two inhabited buildings was thin, as were the sweaters and jeans worn by their inhabitants. Hestia Jones had a blanket spread out on the sun-warmed knoll outside of her front door, upon which she was sitting with baby Charlie on her lap, watching as the kids...young adults, she inwardly corrected herself...took one of the boats out into the bay. Selune was beside her, braiding Celia's hair while the still-catatonic girl watched the shimmering water. The younger girls were reading aloud nearby on their own blanket, and generally all was peaceful.

Behind them, Sturgis was chopping the last of their winter firewood, while Kevin stacked it behind the house. Hestia sighed, glancing up at the clear blue sky, wondering when the next owl, raven or tropical bird would show up bearing further news. They'd only had a few from their wandering Bill, and Hestia fancied that this was a good sign. Wherever they were, they were far away from Voldemort's hand.

"Mum!" Hestia looked out over the bay, as Megan waved to her from the boat, standing up. She laughed, waving back, even as Sturgis shouted behind her,

"SIT DOWN!" He yelled, and the two women both started laughing, "We're not equipped to deal with hypothermia if you fall in!" Oh things were wonderful, Hestia decided. Things were so very wrong, and yet so very wonderful...

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Voldemort's Gala fell to pieces, once it was discovered that Ginny Weasley had been spirited away. Countless guests were questioned, their cottages searched, but no sign of her escape was found. A wrathful call and reward was announced, and the sky was filled with broomsticks, Loyalists searching the skies. But the fugitives were long gone.

After a long delay in London, Theodore and Luna returned to Salem, along with their neighbors. They did not talk much about what happened. Once though, they did, on a warm evening in May when the glass was taken off of their veranda and the flowers were starting to push through the spring ground. Luna was sitting in the cool evening air, wrapped up in a blue robe, her hands clasped over her stomach. Theodore found her there, and stood across from her, leaning against one of the veranda's pillars. He stared at her for a time, his arms crossed, while she simply looked back at him, expectantly,

"Do you..." He asked slowly, his eyes fixed upon her, "Regret Our Lord's loss?"

Luna looked at him for a long, tentative moment, licking her lips, pondering. Looking down at her stomach, she unclasped her hands, taking a deep breath, "I'm married to you. Your oath of Loyalty is mine as well," She looked back up at him, "That said...no. I don't regret that he lost her, at all."

Theodore nodded slowly, eventually taking a step forward and bending down to kiss her forehead, "Nor do I."

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It was a hot, pleasant evening, somewhere far, far away from Europe, somewhere with a beach and palm trees. On the edge of land where the sand met the trees, there was a sand castle, built outside of a tent where sparse belongings were sheltered. Ginny was standing at the water's edge, while far to her left along the shoreline Bill and Alicia were having a water fight, running into the waves as they broke, laughing and chasing each other about. Ginny couldn't help a pleased grin.

The sea was foaming and spurting at her bare feet, tossing sand and shells and the soup of thousands of ocean histories onto her freckled ankles. Shipwrecks and mermaids and giant whales, all spirited into the brilliant turquoise sea. Ginny spread her arms out, up over her head and into the sky, tilting her face up to the clear, ruddy, sunset sky, a contented smile upon her lips. She couldn't fully explain it, this freedom in her spirit that had begun with that strange night of dreaming in Wales. She still knew that she had lived through terrible things, and that terrible things had been done to her. And yet...she had no clear memory of them. The traumas and horrors had slipped away from her in one silent, dream-filled sleep.

'I feel you,' she thought. Almost of their own bidding, her arms spread out to either side of her, like pale freckled wings ready for the ocean winds to sweep her up and away. She was free, as free as the seagulls and tropical birds, as free as the mermaids and the wind and the sea. They were free. They could go anywhere, the world was theirs. They were in this place, on the run and yet unafraid. They were invincible. Nothing could catch them. And for now, Ginny was The Queen of The Island. She missed her friends...and she would always miss him. But at the moment, all was right again.

'I will see you again someday …'

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**Author's Notes:** To shamelessly quote CS Lewis, this is 'the end of this tale, and the beginning of all others'. At the behest of my dear friends Liz (who played Theodore) and Ashley (who played Orla and Megan), I have created an RPG for this plot, on greatestjournal. The name is captive(underscore)rpg, do check it out! I am thinking it will open near the end of this month. And if nothing else, readers can see what the characters all looked like, hehe. 

And for fun, here is the music I listened to while writing this, and might have included as well:

I Will Find You (where we get the story's title) – Clannad  
Fall Asleep – Subject to Change  
Building A Mystery – Sarah McLachlan  
Transylvanian Concubine – Rasputina  
Damaged – Plumb  
Hide Your Love Away – Eddie Vedder  
Lovers In A Dangerous Time – BNL  
Mordred's Lullaby – Heather Dale  
Here With Me – Dido  
Smile Like You Mean It – The Killers  
Walking After You – Foo Fighters  
Fear – Sarah McLachlan  
Sleeping With Ghosts – Placebo  
You – Switchfoot  
Ever The Same – Rob Thomas  
I Will Love You – Fisher  
Cymbeline – Loreena McKennitt

With that all done, I just have to say THANK YOU to all of those who reviewed, with thoughtful and helpful insight. This was so much fun to write, especially as I feel like I am so attached to these characters already. I'm sure I'll be writing more in the future, and of course, the plot will live on in the RPG!

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